


The Life and Times of the World's Greatest Marksman

by momo0231



Category: Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Anxiety Attacks, Barton Brothers angst, Character Study, Clint Needs a Hug, Clint is good at math, Deaf Clint Barton, Dealing with the aftermath of Iron Man 3, Hurt/Comfort, Lots and lots of angst in the later chapters, Lucky got lost in preproduction and somehow became a kitten, M/M, MCU mixed with a lot of 616, NaNoWriMo, PTSD, Past Abuse, Sitwell to the rescue, Suicide Attempt, This is a monster of a fic and I'm not even sorry, Torture, pre iron man 3 and post iron man 3, sometimes Clint has lost control of his life and has to go to denny's to sort it out
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-23
Updated: 2015-03-25
Packaged: 2018-01-02 10:38:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 23
Words: 35,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1055797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/momo0231/pseuds/momo0231
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint Barton has had an interesting life, to say the least. He was in the circus, became involved in a government organization that was bigger then he could ever think possible and he's also a part time Avenger.<br/>Thanks to some people that he really hates (probably) he's putting his life down in writing, but his life is so much more interesting then just what he's putting down.<br/>That's not always a good thing, either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Blown Away- Carrie Underwood

It all started, as it always seems too, in the most uninteresting of places. This is a story that started in Iowa for God’s sake, how exciting do you think it is there?

The answer is not very, but I’m kind of getting off topic.

Anyway, my name is Clint Barton, and I started writing this on “therapy reasons” but my handler convinced me that maybe I’m going to get this published. God only knows why since there’s not anything really interesting about me. I bet all of you would rather have a book written by Stark or Cap.

I’m an assassin for a government agent of S.H.I.E.L.D and also a part time Avenger, full time asshole.

(That’s all going to be edited out isn’t it?)

I’m the best marksman this world has ever seen, not going to lie, but even I had to start somewhere.

And that somewhere was really fucking boring.

(Sitwell I swear to God, if you take out my cursing I will hide everything you ever loved and you will never see them again)

~~@~~

Like I said, I grew up in Waverly, Iowa. It’s up near the top of the state, just north enough to be cold as hell. It’s a small town, but just big enough that there was the possibility that there were people who didn’t know your name.

That being said, everyone knew my name.

My dad was the only butcher in the town, or at least my part of the town. Everyone there knew his name, my mom’s, and my brother and I’s.

My dad’s name was Harold Barton, and he’s a son of a bitch, but I’ll come back to that later.

There was my mom, Edith, my brother, Charles but I always just called him Barney (yes like the big purple dinosaur) and then there was me.

Harold was a drinker, and like most people who are an alcoholic, he hit all of us around.

And do I have stories to tell you about the things that have happened to my family because of that bastard.

(I know I’m getting off topic, you don’t need to tell me that)

I was born June 18th 1980, and I wish I could tell you that the 80’s were a great year, but I don’t remember them so you’re just going to have to take everyone’s words on it.

I went to the local public school, Waverly Shell-Rock School. It was one of those public schools that had an elementary, middle, and high school. Where no one went anywhere else so you have to sit with the same jerks every year in history.

So, Barney and I went to the same school and practically wore the same clothes. We were poor, to put it mildly, since all the money we ever made went to buying booze for my dad. I wore hand me downs from my brother, except for maybe shoes if they fell apart fast enough and the duct tape didn’t work.

Naturally, I was a target for the kids that were bigger than me (and there were a lot of kids bigger than me) for being teased. Once I got into middle school, that teasing turned into more punching, but that’s beside the point.

Barney and I worked in the butcher’s shop, worked there since we were old enough to. It’s usually where we had the worst of the beatings. I once got pushed down the concrete steps in front of the store and broke my arm. Barney told me to tell them that I fell out of a tree. I don’t think the doctor believed me, but hey, what are you going to do at that age?

I was seven years old, Barney was fourteen, when my parents died.

As you might have guessed, it was my dad’s fault. Harold was never very good at knowing when and when not to drink. They were driving, somewhere, never really told us where since we were both at school when it happened.

It happened like how you thought it might happen. Harold was drunk and crashed the car into a tree killing both him and my mom. I remember getting called to the office, and they already had a social worker there.

Say what you want about my little town, but they sure do get their shit together fast when it comes to little kids and their dead parents.

So, in the end, we ended up at Saint Ignatius Home for Orphaned Boys. I was pushed around more there then I ever was at school. Someone didn’t tell us that there was a standard for the orphans either.

The sisters were nice people, and the kids really had something to learn from them. To be honest though, I was a little too obsessed with the Wild West at the time, you know gunslingers and saloons and the whole nine yards. Barney took it in strides, but was pretty embarrassed at the same time. Hell, I would have been too. Might explain all the shit I went through there, might now, but in the end it hadn’t been even five years before we both got the hell out of there.

See, families that came in only wanted to leave with one kid. The sisters told us that they could split us up, but Barney and I told them no. We had to stick together, we were all that we had. We couldn’t just give that up at a chance to go home with a family that would probably bring us back anyway. Plus, we were older than most kids. At least Barney was and would never have gotten adopted in the first place. I had a lot of potential parents interested in me, but I always refused to go home with them unless they brought my brother with them.

So, we ran. Because what else could we do to stay together when everyone wanted you apart?

We did what any little kid would have loved to do at the time, and ran away to the circus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Thank you for reading this little fic of mine that I'm writing for NaNoWriMo. I've been posting a little bit at a time on tumblr, but decided to take it here. All comments and criticisms are welcome, and I hope you liked reading it :) All mistakes are mine since I've had no one look over this yet because it's a long way from being finished. This is a short chapter, I know, but the next ones are longer. More chapters to come!


	2. Underdog- You Me At Six

Clint frowned at the papers, rubbing his forehead. “This is stupid.” He said finally, putting the sheets on Sitwell’s desk.

The man’s lips quirked up as he fixed his glasses. “Well, it’s supposed to be therapeutic for you, at the very least, and if I like what I read I could publish it.”

The agent shook his head, flopping in the chair in front of his desk. “Yeah right, and then the world will know that one, I suck at writing, and two, that my life is a sob story and then they’ll think they _have_ to like me!”

“So you’re telling me, that you just want people to like you? Because as far as I know you’re doing a piss poor job at it.” The handler mused as Clint scowled at him. “Fuck off.” He huffed, getting up to leave.

“Don’t forget these, Agent Barton. I really do want you working on this and I will check up on your progress on this.” The archer came back, snatched the papers out of his hands, stuffed them in his pocket, and then left.

He hated this, it was stupid pointless and really really god damn unnecessary.

After everything that had happened to him after the Battle of Manhattan, after… After Loki, and people still thought he needed this

 _You really do need this_.

And it was really just aggravating. He was a grown man, damn it, he wanted to be treated like one. Not a kid who went off and did something really bad like... Like…

_Killing their friends?_

Stealing candy or something like that.

A grown man damn it.

 _He had_ killed _good agents-_

Clint slammed his bow case down on the table as he unlocked it and pulled it out. He needed to calm down, his brain was working against him again.

He took a normal arrow, twirling it between his fingers before nocking it.

The agent inhaled.

_Fwoosh_

Archery was his real therapy, despite what anyone thought. What Sitwell thought, or anyone in S.H.I.E.L.D. in the first place. What did those eggheads know anyway?

Jackshit, was that answer.

It took Clint at least three hours to calm himself down, mindlessly nocking and letting go. Each time it made the mark he had wanted as he zoned out and relaxed.

As he put away his bow, noticing the dark tinge to the sky, he sighed. He had been resisting Tony’s appeals to live in Stark Tower with him and some of the other team members that had moved in.

It was a nice offer, but if something happened again, if he was compromised, he couldn’t be near them. Sure, they were the ones that made it the easiest to bring him back, but he still couldn’t risk it.

He couldn’t risk anything anymore.

Clint put his case away in his locker, before padding out of the headquarters.

The cold autumn air stung his face which was still flushed from the warmth of what he had been in before.

He started his pace to his apartment, ignoring the soreness in his arms and shoulders. Just a normal day, nothing different. Clint put his hands in his pockets, before remembering he had the papers from his “therapy” in them.

The archer took them out, looking over them as he walked into his apartment.

It wouldn’t hurt to continue these, right?

Clint put the papers down on the small desk he had, getting himself something to eat. Man, he needed to get groceries, or be around enough to eat the things he bought. He bit into an apple, turning on the radio, only to hear someone talking about how the Avengers failed to really clean up New York after the battle and he quickly flicked it off.

His eyes wandered to his desk.

“Fuck you Sitwell.” He mumbled viciously, pushing the papers off the desk and into the nearest trashcan. He didn’t need therapy, he didn’t need to write about his life. What ever happened to living in the now and the future and forgetting the damned past?

Clint slipped on his shoes and walked outside. It was just the start of rush hour and the sidewalks and streets were crowded. He can get lost in it and forget his responsibilities, and what happened. Just forget that his life was the worst that ever existed and he didn’t need some papers to tell him that.

He continued to eat his apple, mindlessly slipping in and out of the crowd, before he suddenly found himself at a dead end of an alleyway. He wasn’t thinking, must have stepped out and…

The archer frowned, moving to a dumpster and throwing his apple away and absently licking his fingers which were sticky from the juice. He turned around to go back to the crowd when he saw something out of the corner of his eye. Saw what looked like, as crazy as it was because he wasn’t there damn it, Loki.

It looked like Loki was there giving him a little smirk.

Clint crashed into a trashcan, his breathing rising rapidly from the normal pace it had been at before.

Nonononono, he was gone! Thor had taken him back to Asgard, but he could have… Could have escaped.

The thought made the world spin for the archer, and it might be because he wasn’t breathing. His chest was aching, as if someone took brass knuckles and punched him in the chest to take the breath out of him.

He tried to stand, tried to walk to where people could see him, but all he ended up doing was falling on the ground and hitting his head. Damn it.

This was obviously not working, and he felt like he was going to die. Either from his lack of breathing to the fact that Loki was going to kill him if he didn’t leave.

Clint let out a moan, as the words “panic attack” crossed his mind. He needed to calm down, that’s what he needed to do. And he needed to do it right now.

The archer closed his eyes tightly, trying to think of something that wasn’t the dread that Loki had maybe escaped and had come back to finish the job that he had promised him he was going to finish.

That he was going to kill him, and that he was going to do it painfully.

He let out a laugh that was far too high and far too odd sounding to be even remotely happy. He might have started crying, but he didn’t know. He’s never felt anything like this before, and he hated it. Hated how out of control it was making him feel.

It took what felt like an hour before Clint was able to push himself up to a sitting position. He was shivering as if it was cold, even though it was warm for the day in the middle of October.

It took another hour at least to get himself to stand up and what felt like too long to actually start walking. He was still shaking all over, and as he walked the first thing that he thought to go was to Sitwell’s house.

Clint laughed, the same crazy laugh that he used before. He shouldn’t even know where Sitwell lived, but he was paranoid one night and maybe kind of followed him home. He couldn’t help it, it just happened.

Maybe it was the same thing that made him fall here was what made him follow his completely and utterly safe handler home.

It was good knowledge to know apparently, because he made his detour toward the man’s flat and all but fell on the door that he knew was his.

He knocked on it more then was probably okay, but damn it he needed someone. He could already feel the shakes getting worse and his breath getting shorter.

If he had another panic attack, he might as well just faint this time.

The archer started knocking again, this time more urgent. “Sitwell, please answer the door. It’s Clint.” His voice was wavering he notices, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

It took a few moments, but he started to hear shuffling behind the door and it opened, thank god. “Clint? How the hell did you-” His handler was cut off when his asset just fell into him. He had his whole weight on the damned door, and it just suddenly opened. What else was he going to do?

“Jesus Christ.” Jasper mumbled, taking Clint back into his house and put him in the nearest chair. “What the hell happened to you, Barton?” His physical appearance was worse then what he thought it looked like. There wasn’t even a hint of red in his face except around his eyes which just helped his bloodshot look.

“Sitwell, Sitwell I need a psyche check I-I think I’m going to crazy.” Jasper didn’t know what was happening, only that Clint was shaking like crazy and looked like something horrible was going to happen. “Clint, tell me what’s wrong. You’re not acting like yourself.”

Clint laughed, but looked like he was about to cry. “I don’t know what’s myself anymore. Sitwell, help, please.” The handler knew that something had happened to his agent, and the last thing he needed was constant questions. Something soothing maybe? Damn he was never as good at this as Phil was.

“Barton, Clint, look at me.” Jasper said quietly, finally getting the archer’s attention. He looked so fucking young that it was almost shocking at first. It was then that he realized that that’s really what he was. He was just a damned kid. Not even mid-thirties yet, if his file was right. This was a kid who became an assassin and fought in the bloodiest damned thing that Sitwell has ever seen. He was controlled by a god and he was still standing. The agent knew of men that couldn’t do half those things and would be sent off to institutions because of it. He’s been doing this for at least a _decade_ , and now he’s having problems. If he wasn’t so worried, he would applaud him.

Jasper took a deep breath before continuing. “Why don’t you tell me what you saw okay? It obviously spooked you, and I can help you, you know that right?” Clint nodded, but there was no attempts at speaking for a few moments. “I-I saw him.” Sitwell’s jaw clenched, knowing full well who he meant, but needed confirmation, needed to be sure. “Who did you see?”

Clint swallowed thickly, not even sure what to say. What could he say without sounding completely insane?

The thing was, he couldn’t. He just had to accept that he was damaged goods now, even though he had always tried so hard to brush past these things.

Fuck him.

“I saw Loki.” He said it quietly, almost as if he didn’t want Sitwell to hear it, and admittedly he really didn’t. Clint watched his handler’s eyes widen in slight surprise before going back to normal. The archer let out a whimper as he put his head in his arms. “Please don’t take me from active duty. I’ll get over it, but I had a panic attack I think and I couldn’t be alone and-”

Jasper gripped Clint’s shoulder, trying to ground him. He never imagined seeing him like this, and he didn’t want to see it again. “I’m here for you, you know that and I will keep telling you that until you decide to believe me.”

That made the archer calm down some more, his breathing losing its hysteric edge. A good sign, in the end, but he still looked to be on the verge of tears. “You can’t report it, Sitwell. I’m going back to work soon and I need it. I can’t be idle, I can’t…” Clint let out a shuddering breath, hiding his head in his hands. He was going insane, but he needed to keep working. He couldn’t be carted off to some insane asylum.

Sitwell, as if he could read what his asset was thinking, smiled kindly. “I won’t, but if it happens again I’m going to have to mention something.” The archer nodded, knowing that that was only fair. “C-can I stay here for a little bit?” He asked, not quite looking at his handler’s eyes.

The last thing he really needed right now was to be rejected, but if he was he wasn’t going to seem weak about it. He already felt like he had shown too much emotions for one day. God, did he hate it too.

However, Jasper nodded, smiling softly at the man sitting on his couch. “Course. I need to get dressed, but just stay there and I’ll get you a blanket when I come back okay?” The archer was still shaking lightly, the after effects of what happened to him was probably going to stay with him for at least another hour. Clint nodded laying himself down on Jasper’s couch. He felt so tired suddenly, but his mind was still racing. He frowned, looking around for something to do before Sitwell came back.

He saw a stack of blank papers, and a pen. He couldn’t help but remember what they were arguing about the day before.

Maybe…. Maybe it would work.

Clint’s shaking hands grabbed a few papers, a magazine to write on, and the pen.

Sitwell would be proud. He thought bitterly to himself, but hell he was going to do this.

No matter what he felt before, it was shattered now and he might as well take someone’s advice.

Jasper didn’t take that long, because what were you going to do when you had your sick asset on your couch looking like he had just died and come back through some kind of magic summoning that just left him a shell.

“Something tells me you shouldn’t be focused on writing right now.” Jasper told Clint as he draped a blanket over him. His hand was shaking so bad that the writing he was trying to do was turning out to be scribbles. “But you wanted me too.” Clint said, almost childishly, but let his handler take the paper and pen out of his hand.

“I did tell you, but I’d much rather you do it when you aren’t like this and instead write when you’re feeling better.” He told him, putting them back on the table. When he turned around, Clint was already falling asleep, his mind finally having shut down long enough to let his eyes close.

“Barton, what am I going to do with you?” Sitwell asked himself quietly, before pulling his asset’s shoes off because as much as he had to take care of him he didn’t want his shoes on his couch. He then left, going about his day while he let Clint sleep because it looked like he hasn’t slept since the alien invasion started.

When Clint did wake up, it was twilight outside and his head hurt a little where he fell a few hours ago. “Sitwell?” He asked, feeling better but at the same time he felt like absolute shit. “How are you feeling?” His voice drifted from the kitchen, and it was then that Clint noticed just how good it smelled in the flat.

He sat up, fixing the blanket so that it was still draped around him, “What smells good?” He asked instead, not wanting to talk about himself right now. There was a pause, as if Jasper was trying to figure out if he should brush off the question and ask his again, or answer Clint’s. “I’m making spaghetti and meat balls.” He said finally, and the archer was glad that he dropped it. He didn’t really want to talk about it, especially not to Sitwell. As much as he was grateful that he did this for him, if he had to talk to someone about this it would be Coulson.

But, he couldn’t do that because he just so happened to be dead.

Clint sighed, getting off the couch and padding into the kitchen. He still was holding the blanket, holding it like a cape around his shoulders. “Thanks for this Sitwell. I know it was kind of last minute and such. Also maybe a little creepy that I know where you live.” The archer shrugged, as Jasper actually resisted the urge to take a picture of Clint while he was looking adorable like this. He looked like a kid that was pretending to be a superhero with the blanket around him.

Except, that he really was a superhero when you thought about it. Better than anyone he’s ever seen and god damn how did he do it?

How was it that he was completely and utterly human but he was just as strong willed, determined, and stubborn as any other hero like Captain America?

Jasper sighed, shaking his head some before motioning to the fridge. “Get something to drink, I have soda, water, and juice. It’s still going to take a while for this to be ready. If you want, your paper and pen are over on the counter there. You can write, but only if you want.” He still didn’t want to push him too hard after what happened this morning. If he did this wrong, it could result in another panic attack. “And I do have ice and medicine for your head if you want that too.”

Clint just nodded, grabbing a water and taking the paper and pen to the table with him. He kept the blanket over his shoulders, as if it was his security blanket, and started writing.

Maybe it could help him after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I messed anything up in this chapter, feel free to tell me! I'd love to hear what anyone says about this :) Thanks for reading and more chapters on the way! I just have to finish them ^^;


	3. Reality- Newsboys

So, the circus. What do I say about that hell hole that I then lived in for the next two decades?

Your guess is seriously as good as mine.

On that same note, the circus was my home for the longest time ever since my parents died. I was so sure it was my home, even when so much shit happened to me. I mean, what else was I going to think? I couldn’t exactly go anywhere else to get a job. Who would hire an ex-carney with a record anyway?

But, I’m getting ahead of myself.

Barney and I ran to Carson Carnival of Traveling Wonder

Cheesy name, I know. I thought the same damn thing as a kid.

And, they gave us any other job you would give orphaned children who just ran away from said orphanage. They gave us shovels and told to shovel shit. Let me tell you, elephant shit is actually the tamest of what we had to shovel. Honestly, the worst smelling were camels. Then again, they don’t smell very good to begin with.

Then, well, I got in trouble with the wrong sorts.

As a ten year old kid, you sort of believe everyone, even when you never believed your own pop. You believe everyone because you’re so desperate to find someone who’s different and won’t hit you around I guess.

Jacques Duquesne. Or, if you were fans of the circus at one time, The Swordsman. He was fancying himself a protégé and found me instead. You can probably guess where this is going, since I’m not running around stringing swords instead of arrows. I guess I have to hand something to him, because he helped me start up my wonderful aim.

I hate him more then I hate myself sometimes. Why? Well, I’ll get to that later, promise.

So, he wanted me to be his protégé when it came to his acts which, you probably guessed, involved swords. He was one of those people that threw knives at people on targets and whatnot. Well, for a time I was the person on the target while I was learning under him. I had to perfect my aim early on or I was going to at the very least knick someone. At the most, stab them with a fast moving knife.

In case anyone didn’t know, we actually did get paid. It was never enough though and sometimes we still resorted to stealing what we wanted, but you got paid.

About two years into my mentorship with Jacques we found out that someone was stealing from the ringmaster’s profits which in turn gave us an allowance. It was sucky because we got less money from it, but we all just assumed it was because we set up shop in some sucky places.

One night, after practicing, I went to Jacques’ tent to ask him something and I saw him with the ringmaster’s profit box. Counting money as casual as it comes.

You know how people say that if they did one thing different, they would be completely different people?

Some days I wished I did the opposite of what I did here, because wouldn’t that have made my life a fuckton easier?

Well.

Needless to say, I called him out on it. For the fact he was stealing, and because we weren’t getting money because of him.

Then he went on a spiel about how this was a great thing and that we should keep doing this together and you know how bad guys can’t stop talking. I wouldn’t, couldn’t, agree with him so I told him I was going to turn him into the ringmaster.

The next thing I know, I’m being chased over the circus grounds by him.

Now, I had a bunch of friends that were acrobats. Nice girls the lot of them, and even taught me some things. Not many people know that I’m just as good at acrobats as I am at archery or swords for that matter.

That being said, the next safe haven for me was the acrobatic tents. Except I forgot that I have nowhere to go but up in those situations.

And with a pissed off Jacques behind me, that seemed like the best option so I climbed the ladder to the tight rope. There was a little window on the other side of the platform, so I was planning to try my luck crossing it and to jump out of the window.

All in all, not the best idea I ever had, considering the guy throws knives for a living.

So, he did that and cut the tightrope. I couldn’t tell you what happened at that time, all I remember is falling and a couple of loud cracks as I hit the ground, my legs feeling as if someone dropped a truck on them before passing out.

Later, I found out that Buck Chisholm found me and got me to the hospital. His carnival name was Trickshot. As you can guess, he also gave me a chance at mentoring, but that’s later.

Jacques wasn’t found, escaped before he could be. I broke both of my legs in that fall and spent a long long time in recovery and was either in a wheelchair or some weird stretcher thing to stand.

Barney… He thought I should have accepted what Jacques was trying to give me. Was furious that I didn’t.

I got one visit from him in the hospital before he disappeared too. I think he headed to the army, but I’m not sure.

Don’t worry, he’ll pop up again. Family sticks together in the weirdest ways sometimes.

Anyway, Buck was determined to get me started on archery. Taught me everything I know, and introduced me to trick arrows. Became my only family after Barney left, and that’s not really a good thing considering that he’s a complete dick.

Once my legs healed and a few years passed where I was able to full out sprint without getting too tired or too weak, Buck took me on my first mission with him, which would turn out to be my last.

Took me to some place that he wanted to steal from, some gang at the time. I didn’t know that’s what he was doing until he left the house with bags of money. I was left outside to deal with the people out there. It just so happens, one of those people happened to be Barney.

See, I told you he would come back.

Except, that shooting your brother who was already pretty mad at you with an arrow in his shoulder is never really good for building relationships.

Needless to say, I snapped at Buck telling him off for being just like Jacques and I wasn’t going to go with him to become some robber.

Well, he shot me with some arrows to slow me down from getting Barney to a hospital. He still doesn’t know I did that, since I jumped before he woke up. I didn’t want another argument like the one we had when I was in the hospital.

I went back to the circus after that, because really, what was I supposed to do? The circus had been my home for years, and it’s a place you turn too when everything around you was going to hell.

I stayed there until a guy named Philip J Coulson pushed his way into my life and, fuck me, became my next and last mentor.

He became my father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all that's looked at and read and liked this story. I appreciate it so much! More to come, again, as soon as I can get them.


	4. Broken- Lifehouse

“Food’s ready.” Sitwell told him taking a bowl and putting in some of the spaghetti. “Thanks.” Clint mumbled, pushing the papers away. The handler tried not to give in to the urge to read what his asset had written, but it was hard, since he wanted to know what made him look that upset.

He wasn’t really going to ask though.

“You can stay the night, if you want. I don’t have an extra bed but you can take mind you want.” Jasper offered, but the archer shook his head. “No, I’m fine. I’m already eating your food. The last thing I need to do is to take up your bed too. I better be getting home anyway.”

The handler frowned, glancing outside. It was already nearing night, the sun pretty much completely down now. “Barton, I don’t feel like you’d be safe if you left now.” Clint huffed, taking the blanket off and folding it before putting it back on the couch. “I’ll be fine. Thanks for taking care of me, seriously.” He smiled at his handler, before slipping on his shoes.

Clint grabbed his papers, before patting Jasper’s back. “See you tomorrow, boss.” He smirked as he showed himself to the door.

As soon as his asset left, Jasper fell into a chair. “Now I know why Phil started losing hair so young.” He mumbled to himself, rubbing his forehead.

The archer made his way home, looking determinedly at the ground and not planning to look up until he got there, so afraid he was at having a repeat of what happened this morning. Hell, he’d rather be mugged right now (which was a very good possibility) then have another damned panic attack.

And with what was going to happen tomorrow, he wanted to avoid that as much as he could.

Why couldn’t he just live a normal life? One with a girlfriend or a wife and have two or three kids. He might even name one after Fury as a joke, could be their godfather.

He laughed at the thought, while at the same feeling a weird sense of longing, as if he’d been so close to having that and then letting it slip through his fingers.

Clint cleared his throat, bringing himself back to reality.

He walked down the rest of the way to his apartment, trying not to get lost in his thoughts for his own good. The archer unlocked his door and flopped on the bed as soon as he could.

Tomorrow, he would have to take a shower and get dressed for the worst day of his life so far. To be honest though, he didn’t see how much worse it could get by now.

This would probably go down as the worst day of his life, shockingly.

The archer laughed, but it sounded more self-deprecating then anything before falling asleep.

When he woke up the next day, all he really wanted to do was fall asleep again. Couldn’t he just sleep through today? Pretend like nothing horrible was going to happen?

Today, was the funeral of his handler; Phil Coulson.

Today, Clint wanted nothing more than to put the pillow over his face and ignore the world and its problems.

Instead, he got up, took a shower, and started to get dressed in the suit that he had rented just for this occasion. Yes, he had one already, but this one was slightly better than the one that he had and Coulson deserved that.

A few minutes after getting dressed there was a knock on his door. Clint frowned, not sure who it could be since he hadn’t told anyone to come by before the funeral.

He opened the door, meeting a faceful of red curls. “Tasha?” He murmured, arms wrapping around her.

“Clint, I’m sorry.” She said quietly. He had heard it from her already, when he first knew about Coulson’s death. Still, it was nice to hear again. Nice to hear it before he saw his friend, his mentor and his probably last foster father.

So, he did what anyone would do, he hugged her tighter and buried his face in her neck. “Why him damn it? He could have picked so many people, left everyone alone and he decided to kill him. Why did he go in there alone?”

Natasha didn’t say anything, but he didn’t expect her too. He didn’t expect her to say anything about this. Because what do you say when someone you love so much dies?

It’s happened to him so many times yet he can’t ever get over it. Not someone like this. “Tasha, promise me that you won’t die. Ever.”

The redhead smiled. “Of course, Clint. Because I can stop myself from dying. You know our job.”

Clint sighed, looking up and resting his chin on her shoulder. “Shut up, a man can dream can’t he? I’m just so fucking tired of people dying around me.” Natasha rubbed his back, nodding lightly. “I know, Clint, I know.”

They stood there for a few more minutes, before they pulled away. “You’re collar is all messed up.” Natasha tisked, as she reached up to fix it. Clint let her, letting himself idly think about what he was going to say today.

He didn’t know why he had been picked to give a speech about Coulson, literally anyone else could do it better, but here he was.

He hadn’t wrote anything down because he knew he was going to end up in a drunken mess somewhere in his apartment.

Clint really hoped someone had a bottle of scotch to share after this damned thing. Tony probably would. Maybe he should call him and ask. He didn’t realize that Natasha was done, waiting for him to move with her to the door. “Sorry, I’m a bit out of it.” He murmured, shrugging.

She smiled, almost a little sadly, as they made their way outside.

The casket was a nice sleek black. Something that would have made Coulson laugh because it was very reminiscent of his suits if you thought about it. Clint would have pointed it out, and then Coulson would have told him to get his mind back on target, Agent Barton.

Clint would have been laughing if he didn’t feel like crying.

The team was there, which was nice. Thor obviously wasn’t because he was still dealing with his own things, but everyone else was there and Jane and Darcy were there. Like they were stand ins for the god. Might as well, since Darcy had all the sass and Jane had all the naivety

The funeral went without a hitch, and then it was Clint’s turn.

It was Clint’s turn to put words to something he never wanted to put words into.

He stood up, and even when he got to the microphone he paused. It was all friends and people he knew, there was no reason for him to be nervous. Yet, he could feel the glares and weariness of some people he believed he shouldn’t have the right to stand up there.

That it was his fault they were here.

Clint would have agreed with them, but that wasn’t his place here. This wasn’t about him, this was about Phil Coulson and this life that he led.

“To be honest, when I was first told I was doing this, not a concrete word that stuck in my mind to start this off. Coulson was a great leader, someone you could trust, and was able to push you until you reached a goal you didn’t even know you had.”

The archer chuckled, but his eyes felt like they were burning. “But he was also a nerd who could talk to you about Captain America longer then you ever wanted to hear, and was the fiercest man I’ve ever met who believed that they were doing good when everyone else was doubting it. Philip J Coulson was someone that I looked up too, and will continue to look up to because he is an example of someone we all should be. A selfless, person who would do nothing but help people.” The words tasted bitter on his tongue, knowing that he practically killed the man that he trusted so much. “He helped people who didn’t even know needed help, and I will never stop fighting for what he believed in, because it was the best damn thing I’ve seen on my time of living.”

Clint paused, looking at everyone in the crowd, but his eyes paused on Natasha. She smiled at him, and her eyes looked red from unshed tears. His hands clenched into fists, wanting nothing more than to break down right there and then. They had something great together, they were a family. Why would he do something so stupid that it made them all suffer?

The archer closed his eyes for a moment, before looking up again. “We’ll all miss Coulson, some more than others, but he’ll always be alive in what we make with our life after his death.”

Clint walked off the podium, taking his seat next to Natasha again, who wrapped an arm around his shoulder.

The comfort was nice and welcomed by the archer, but he knew that the redhead didn’t know why.

He was starting work again tomorrow, with missions and such, and he knew that all the people that already hated him after this were going to rear their heads when they found out he had been let on a mission again.

The archer has already been stopped in the halls and shouted at. People had lost friends, those that they loved, all because of his fuck up. Because he had been compromised. He didn’t stop them, and some were so angry at him that they threw punches. He just let them do what they wanted.

Why would he stop them? He deserved whatever was coming to him when it came to that. Hell, he deserved to be fired and forced into prison because of what he did.

_Then why hasn’t he?_

Clint didn’t want to entertain that thought today. He was too tired, and just wanted to sleep and maybe death will come quicker if he did. God, wouldn’t that be great?

The thought honestly made him smile.

He didn’t go to see the casket being lowered. Instead, he took his leave and walked around the cemetery. Clint was going to wait until everyone was gone before he had his final talk to his handler. He didn’t want to come back if he could help it, but he probably would in the future. He didn’t know what was going to happen in the future.

He didn’t know anything right now. He was just walking through reality, through this day, numbly. It was better than actually feeling, probably.

He watched the service from afar, and saw Natasha constantly glancing back at him. She was worried, and she might have a very good reason to be. They both knew how much Phil meant to both of them, but he had a tendency to be… More self-destructive then he was probably willing to admit.

More than either of them were probably willing to admit. She nodded toward him, before finally tuning her back on him.

It hurt more than it probably should.

Clint swallowed thickly, waiting patiently before everyone, and he did mean everyone, left.

Slowly, he walked up to the freshly dug grave that wouldn’t even get a gravestone until a few weeks after. Earth was still too soft to put something like a ten pound stone on it.

He stood there for a long time, before sitting down on the patch of earth. “I didn’t say half the things I wanted to say back there.” He started, not even sure why he was saying it because he knew that Coulson knew.

Maybe he still needed to say it though. To get it off his chest.

Clint sighed, putting his head in his hands. “I trusted you with my life, and that’s probably why you did the stupid ass thing you did, but who am I supposed to trust now? Natasha is the only one. I can’t trust the team, can’t trust Sitwell. I only trusted you and Tasha!” The archer rubbed at his eyes violently.

He wasn’t going to cry, he was _not_ going to cry.

“You were the first person that treated me like a fucking person at SHIELD. That brushed off everyone when they told you I was damaged goods and might as well be thrown back to the circus.” He laughed to himself at the thought. “I remember you tried so hard not to let me hear those things, but I was a rebellious bastard. Of course I heard them, and I think you knew I knew but you never mentioned it. You just kept doing what you were doing because you were so amazing Coulson. You were a saint on earth.”

Now he was a saint in heaven, probably.

That’s when the tears finally started coming. Phil Coulson was gone, dead, and he was never ever coming back. And out of all the deaths that Clint has witnessed in the past thirty-three years of his life, this was the most painful he’s ever felt.

“Damn it Phil. Damn it! Why did you have to do that? Couldn’t you have left it to someone else? Let someone else die instead of you? Hell, Wilson from R&D could have done it. I doubt anyone would have been sorry if he died. I sure as hell wouldn’t have. I don’t…” Clint took in a shuddering breath, wiping at his cheeks as best as he could. “I don’t know what to do without you. As fucking corny and stupid as that sounds, it’s so true that you don’t even know it. You told me what was right and wrong, you gave me the calls and I trusted your judgment when you told me the damned call. I can’t trust anyone like that, and you know what it’s like to second guess someone you’re supposed to trust.”

Clint sighed, pushing himself up from the ground. His cheeks were dry now, but his eyes were still red from the momentary lapse.

“The next time I come I’ll bring flowers. I know you hate them.” The archer smiled, before shoving his hands in his pockets.

He detoured the drinks with Tony to buy a six case of cheap beer and drink with himself in his apartment. It seemed like the best thing he could do. With Tony, he was pretty sure he would drink himself into a coma and he didn’t want to go too far, actually, even though he almost wanted too with every fiber of his being.

The archer peeled off his suit, not feeling up to take a shower to get the faint smell of graveyard off his back, and fell into his bed. He drank the whole case, so it was only fitting that he fell asleep rather quickly.

When he woke up, there were seven missed calls on his phone. Three were from Natasha, two from Tony, the others were from Steve and Sitwell.

The archer was tempted to ignore them, because really why did they want to know how he was doing? Did they think that he was some fragile bastard that couldn’t hold his own?

Clint sighed, before shooting off a text to Tony and Sitwell that he was fine. They would tell Natasha and Steve. Sure, they would be pissed that he wouldn’t tell them directly but he couldn’t do it right now.

He needed something that would get his mind off this, and the writing helped somewhat. However, it was never too early to drink so he grabbed a beer (he thought about it for a second then he grabbed two) and sat at his desk.

He sucked at the end of the pen thoughtfully, ignoring the incoming headache he was going to experience for the rest of the day, before he started writing again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not completely happy with this chapter, so it's probably really horrible, I'm sorry. Feedback will be rewarded with virtual cookies! Thank you for everyone that has read, left comments, and everything else :) You all are awesome!


	5. Blue Lips- Regina Spektor

If I had a chance to talk to God, even if he existed or even if he was just a figment of my imagination, I would have a shit ton of questions to ask him.

I think the first thing I would ask him would be how he expected me to believe that he was something tangible when I’ve never felt his presence. When my whole life has been one kick to the knees after another, whether physically or mentally.

How can you kick a man who’s already as down as he can be. He might as well bury his fucking grave right there the amount of the times he’s eating the dirt then breathing the fresh air of standing tall.

I don’t know. I don’t know what to think anymore.

I grew up in a religious family, so to speak. My parents were Catholic, and Barney and I was baptized and had our first communion, but never got confirmed. At least, I wasn’t. I doubt Barney every changed that fact.

My mother was the only one who was religious, in our family. Sure, Harold was a little, but you don’t really believe it after a few punches. She raised Barney and me in the faith, but neither of us were as religious as she was. We didn’t go to church and say the rosary, which she did once a month. Hell, we didn’t even go to church every Sunday. We went to public school because we couldn’t afford Catholic schools, so we weren’t really exposed to the teachings of it.

When they died, we got put in an orphanage run by sisters. We learned about the Church and all of it. As a kid, you’re easily willed by what they’re saying and you almost want to believe it. You want to believe that people you loved went to heaven and the people you hated might go to hell. (Hey, they were one of the same when I was little, don’t judge me.)

Even when we ran to the circus, I still kind of kept it in mind. I don’t know if I believed everything that the good sisters told us, but I kept the idea of Heaven and Hell. Barney never really did, he was big on education though and tried to get me back to school. It never really worked, because I never wanted to go back to school, but he did. That’s why he went to an army school, probably.

When all that shit happened to me, I had hoped that my mentors were heading downstairs instead of upstairs. That I was sort of the perfect child because I wasn’t doing anything wrong.

It’s almost ironic, because after all of that I kind of hit rock bottom and started drinking a little too much, smoking just about everything, and got a little too hooked on drugs and had sex probably too often and with too many people. Don’t ask me how I didn’t get any STD’s, because that was just pure fucking luck on my part. No one really stopped me, probably thought that there was a good reason I was doing it all. Everyone was really nice after all of it happened, treated me like glass. It just made me more aggravated and made everything I was doing a little bit worse.

Knowing all of that, it was probably unsurprising that I stumbled onto a S.H.I.E.L.D. investigation drunk and maybe even a little high, and didn’t even put up a fight as they knocked me out. Thought I was someone trying to get information, which is hilarious when you think about it.

I woke up in an interrogation room and with a pounding headache. Someone thought it was a good idea to start yelling at me as soon as I woke up. Later, I’d know her name as Maria Hill, but at the time she was just “really annoying lady who’s kind of hot if you think about it”.

Then Fury came in, gave me medicine and started to play good cop bad cop. It’s all very jarring when you’re hung over and working through some after effects of drugs, let me tell you.

Needless to say, I didn’t give them what they wanted to hear and so they got more than a little pissed at me. They were worried I was going to go tell someone what I’d seen, that this was some pretty high level shit.

So that went back and forth for at least three days, before they brought in someone new, and I thought great. Some other bastard that won’t believe me when I said that I was in the circus and yes, I really shot arrows for a living.

This guy sat down, and handed me a cup of coffee which was really a god send at the moment. I hadn’t had coffee since the day I gotten captured. He watched me as I pretty much gulped down the steaming drink before smiling at me.

“You don’t look like you’re from H.Y.D.R.A, and you don’t look like a threat.” He said simply, which kind of ruffled my feathers just a bit because I wanted to look like a threat to some people, but if it meant a longer time here I would have made myself into a kitten. “Yeah, I bet you tell that to everyone.” I said finally, watching the new guy like he was going to stab him in the throat.

For all I knew, he could be waiting for his chance.

Instead, the man pulled out a picture and it was a grainy picture in my outfit. The purple had been one of the acrobat’s ideas, but they really went all out with it. It was a bitch to wear He had his hood off, clearly seeing my face.

“You really were a circus rat, as crazy as it is in the twenty-first century.” The guy said, a grin that was really too annoying sometimes. “Yeah well, here I am. The famous Hawkeye. Now will you let me go?” I asked, and I really hope I didn’t sound as desperate as I felt.

The man shook his head, before sticking out his hand. “Sorry, completely forgot to introduce myself. The name’s Phil Coulson and in case you didn’t know, you’ve been stuck in S.H.I.E.L.D for the past few days. I’d like to recruit you.”

Not the words I was looking for, mind you.

The words I was looking for would get me out of that place and put me back on the circus. Needless to say, I pitched a bitch fit over it. “What? Seriously? You kidnapped me, kept me here for what feels like a fucking week, and you think it’s perfectly fine to recruit me to this bullshit?”

Coulson just kept on damned _smiling_ and nodded. “Yup, pretty much.”

I refused the first time he asked me, and then he left.

He came back the next day and asked me.

This became a pattern that I wasn’t sure if I was annoyed by it, or pleased that someone wanted me so badly that they would annoy the fuck out of me by keeping me in this god forsaken place and ask me the same fucking question every single time he saw me.

Finally, I thought it would be better off to just say yes. He was going to keep asking, so why the fuck not? It’s not like I had any better options going for me. It was stay at the circus and keep stealing and doing that sort of work, or maybe work for someone better, someone who could help the world.

I think you can guess which path I chose.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone be more proud of me then when I finally told Coulson my answer. “You won’t regret it, I promise you.”

I regret my decision every damn day, but I wouldn’t have changed it for the world. Not for all the money in the world. Not even for everyone I’ve loved to come back to me somehow. This place, as much as I want to hate it because sometimes it brings out my worst person, I fucking love it. I get to see what happens when I help people. I get to do everything I dreamed about doing when I was a kid and started learning archery.

This is what I wanted to do with my life, was to save people, but even that comes at a price.

Also my first mission was more to be desired for someone they wanted so badly, but I’ll get to that in a little bit.

Training was a bitch, I guess they were planning to use me as one of their best long shots from the beginning because they had me going hard. I learned hand to hand in about half a week, though it helped that I’ve been in enough bar fights to know the basics. Regular guns at a week, and the rest was training me with a sniper and spying things. Never liked snipers, would have much rather been with a bow but that was too suspicious. Apparently arrows are too high alert while sniper rounds are completely normal. I don’t get it either, and I pitched a fit when I could.

Sure, I said yes, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be a little shit and rebel whenever I wanted too. I had off and on handlers, they only really stayed for a week at a time before Fury sort of gave up and gave Phil back to me. I did all the same shit, only that Coulson had a tendency to either take it in strides or pretend it never happened.

It was aggravating as fuck, let me tell you.

As embarrassing as it was, I have to admit I think it might have just been me trying to get attention. I was kind of affection starved for my whole life, though now that I think about it, it doesn’t make sense to make someone hate you when you want them to just pat you on the back and tell you that you did good out there kid.

Yeah, needless to say that Coulson was pretty observant and did all those things for me and more.

No, we were not a couple. You won’t believe how many times I’ve heard that rumor flying around. There were a shitton of new agents that always thought we were fucking in the nearest broom closet when we got a chance.

Even if we were, we would have had some self-control, _thank you very much_.

Anyway, he basically became the father I had always kind of wished for, because having a bunch of deadbeat ones were okay, but it’s like if you eat something mediocre for your whole life and you finally find something that was good and you can’t just go back to what you were doing before.

Okay, that’s a horrible metaphor but it’s true.

Ugh, looking back on that I feel like I should be embarrassed.

So, my first mission at S.H.I.E.L.D was a bust of course. I was new and thought I knew everything, like the little asshole I was. I wasn’t sent on the assassination missions until after so this one was supposed to be an easy, take the information and split before you get compromised.

Really, now that I think about it, it’s pretty damn hard to do that after only a month and a half or so of training.

Anyway, so I had to gather information from a government mole that was in the senate and quickly rising up the ranks, let me tell you.

What I was going to get would help us convict the guy of treason since he was really working for KGB. I had a running theme on Russian missions, before you ask and don’t worry. It’s all going to be sorted out as to why soon enough. I had to infiltrate his hotel room and take some incriminating evidence that was there, but I wasn’t paying attention. When I was told when we was usually there or gone on senate things, I wasn’t paying attention.

Needless to say, I walked in while he was there.

I made him suspicious, he obviously did not believe that I was trying to get his order for dinner. I was still very confused what happened at fancy hotels. Or hotels at all, for that matter, since I’ve never stayed in one before. I only knew what movies told me, more specifically, James Bond.

Basically, I was thinking of myself as a sort of B-Movie James Bond that everyone would still love.

Yeah, well, the guy knocked me out and left ten minutes after that.

I was put on paperwork for a week after that, and had to go back to the spy part of training because I obviously sucked at being a spy.

The next mission I went on was about the same and I fucking aced it.

And I kept acing my missions.

Before the Russian missions finally reared its ugly head when I was told to go kill the famous KGB assassin, The Black Widow.

I’ve heard about her a lot by now, since everything I had been doing had been leading to this. She was dangerous, the best at what she did, and was a master spy, assassin, anything I could do she did ten times better.

Still does ten times better.

Anyway, so I was sent to some really fucking cold place in Russia, though I now know that everywhere in Russia is really fucking cold.

I was given a recent picture of her, a sniper rifle, and told to kill her.

Simple enough, certainly nothing really challenging about it. Hell, I didn’t even have to make it look like an accident. I just had to put a bullet in her brain.

So I found where she would be staying at, in one of the worse parts of the city, and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

When she showed up, she was carrying groceries. Something normal, though it seemed strange that an assassin like The Black Widow to go grocery shopping to me.

Except that she started giving it to the homeless people around her, and they greeted her like they were friends.

Now, you can just guess my confusion. This couldn’t be the woman I had to kill, and if it was I didn’t see what was wrong with her.

A killer with a heart of gold, and I was pretty much the same damn person when I had got into S.H.I.E.L.D.

Before you ask, I might also have been willed by how beautiful she was too and so I dropped my gun and went to meet her and tell her that I wanted to recruit her.

One, recruitment doesn’t work like that. You had to be at least a level six to recruit people and I was a level three. Two, she knocked me out because I was wearing S.H.I.E.L.D gear.

I have a tendency to be knocked out more than is probably healthy.

Anyway, I woke up with me being in the hotel room that I was looking at before. The Black Widow was standing over me, holding a gun to my head. “S.H.I.E.L.D sent another person after me. Do you want to go crawling back to them or do you want to die?” I remember saying some bullshit, but I don’t remember what it was. The general gist of it was that I asked her to come to S.H.I.E.L.D, to join it, and practically begged her for it because it was that or die from the one woman that I knew could kill me in the most painful way.

I don’t know what it is, or what I did, but she put the gun down and let me take her back to Coulson.

Naturally, like anyone probably would be if I decided to bring home a master assassin that had a personal vendetta against the whole place I worked for, and asked if she could join the said place, there would be some people that would hate me afterwards.

Coulson was even pretty pissed at me when it happened. He yelled at me for an hour straight, before he told me to get her out of there, but I was pretty fucking stubborn. I kept her anyway, making it sound like Natasha was a puppy, but really I was her puppy if I had to say.

In the end, she ended up to be one of the biggest assets that we’ve ever had.

So yeah, I’m pretty glad that I pulled her into SHIELD, if that’s what you’re asking. Also she’s one of my best friends and god I love her so much. She’s like my sister except that we’re so much closer than that, but that’s the only word I can think of off the top of my head that would describe us.

We have a special connection, I guess you could say.

I fucking love her, let’s just leave it at that.

A little bit after that, I met the second love of my life that I still have feelings for. Thankfully, I know for a fact that she will never read this so I’m pretty content with writing this.

I’ll save that angst fest for tomorrow though, if you don’t mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooo! Next chapter! Thanks for everyone that has looked at it and gave it your time to really read it. I promise I'll update more regularly when I have 50,000 :3 Almost there!!!


	6. Fix You- Coldplay

When Clint went back to work, the next day, the first thing he did was go to Sitwell’s office. The smell of cinnamon rolls was the first thing he noticed, and his mouth started to water despite itself.

“Figured you might want them.” The handler teased lightly, looking up from what he was working on and pushing them closer to Clint. He nodded, taking one of them as he flopped into the chair.

They were silent, as if the two agents didn’t know how to talk to each other anymore.

“Look, I know that incident a few days ago looked pretty bad-” Clint started, but was interrupted by Jasper. “It was pretty bad. How did you even know where I lived?”

Clint waved the cinnamon roll in the air, as if telling Jasper that that was a useless question. “That’s not the point. It was just an isolated incident. I don’t want you telling my therapist or Fury or even Tasha, okay?” He didn’t want anyone else to know if he could help it.

Sitwell sighed, wishing he hadn’t agreed to this because this could come back to bite both of them. He just nodded though, because yes this was the first time it has happened. An isolated incident can be suppressed and maybe can be avoided if he could help it. As long as Clint had help, it wouldn’t happen again right?

God, he hoped.

“Thanks boss, you’re the best.” Clint’s grin was blinding, but all teeth. Even Jasper could see that it never reached his eyes. His eyes were still scared looking and unsure.

This was going to kill him. He really wished that someone could have warned him about the archer. That he was literally his own worst enemy and the most self-destructive idiot he has ever met.

He watched him leave, rubbing at his forehead again.

As Clint was walking, eating the roll thoughtfully and savoring the taste because he probably wasn’t going to eat for the rest of the day, he heard someone call his name behind him. He frowned, glancing back.

It was someone he had no idea who they were. Their face wasn’t familiar so a name didn’t come to him if he even knew it. “Yeah? Can I help you?” The archer asked as they got closer.

The person didn’t look happy, and instinctively Clint readied himself for what he knew was going to happen.

They looked him straight in the eye, and pulled their hand back before they gave him a nice right hook to the face, hitting him right in nose.

Clint tasted blood before he felt it burst out from his nose, running rivers down his face to his shirt. His back hit the wall and, running on adrenaline now, he dropped what he was holding and readied himself for a fight, before suddenly bringing his arms down. He knew what this was probably for, and why should he stop them?

This was because of Loki, and from the pure anger that they had in their eyes, he could only assume someone they had loved had died because of him.

Because he had been controlled by Loki.

They had every right to beat him into a bloody pulp, so he wasn’t exactly going to stop them.

The only thing he did to protect himself was, oddly enough, cover his ears. One time someone had been so violent that they broke his hearing aids and he would very much not like to go back to R&D for a new pair. He didn’t want to face Wilson again.

Needless to say, the person beat him until they were the ones looking tired and left. Clint uncovered his ears, feeling like someone had tried to break every bone in his body. He debated standing up, but laying down like this felt so much better at the moment.

Of course, the person that found him was Tony Stark himself. The last thing he needed was for him to make jokes when he was still hurting from the last week and now this.

Surprisingly, the mechanic held out his hand to help him up. Clint looked at the hand, before looking up at his face. He was smiling, but worry was clear in his eyes. He really did mean well.

He took it, and even when he was standing he supported himself on Tony for a moment before he could stand the pain to stand up on his legs. His torso burned, but he ignored it in favor of using the sleeve of his shirt to try and mop up the blood.

“The fuck happened to you, Barton? I thought this was a safe place for SHIELD agents.” Tony asked him, picking up the cinnamon roll that had been dropped and threw it away.

Well there went his food for today.

“That’s before a lot of shit ‘appened.” He said thickly, the bloody nose making it hard to talk, and to breathe for that matter.

Tony’s lips pursed before he put his hand on his back and steered him to the men’s bathroom to help him clean up. He had a meeting he needed to be at, he checked his watch, about now but Clint was more important to him then a meeting about his position as consultant for S.H.I.E.L.D. They all knew he was whether they really wanted him to be or not.

The mechanic took a wad of paper towels and gave them to Clint. “You’re telling me that some asshole did this to you because of what happened three months ago?” Yeah, he didn’t like remembering it either, but he wasn’t about to beat someone up that helped them get those bastards back in their hole.

Clint just shrugged, as if it wasn’t a big deal someone had beat him up and gave him what looked like a broken nose and black eye as well as countless other bruises.

Tony sighed, busying himself with wetting paper towels to help clean up the dried blood as soon as the wet blood stopped coming. “Clint, that wasn’t your fault, you know that right? That whole thing with Loki? You couldn’t stop what happened. He would have found someone from SHIELD to help him go through it one way or another.”

He didn’t say anything, just threw away the paper towels and took the new ones that Tony offered to clean up the rest of the blood.

The mechanic sighed, knowing that he was being stubborn with him right now. Fine, he could be that way, but this topic was not going to be dropped if he was going to see him again anytime soon.

But, there was still one more issue that needed to be addressed between them.

“Clint, I’m sorry about Coulson. I didn’t know how close he was too you until after it was all said and done, but… I know what it’s like to lose someone you looked up too.” The archer looked up, knowing exactly who Tony was talking about. Phil had told him about his first mission with Tony, and he knew what happened with Obadiah. He smiled weakly, not sure what to say. No one has told him that they were sorry except for a few people so far. No one really wanted to talk to him anymore it seemed. “Thanks, Tony.” He said finally as he checked in the mirror to see if he got all the blood off of his face.

He chucked the paper towels when he knew that he did.

The billionaire smiled, though it looked a little forced. “Anytime to help a friend.” He paused, before sighed as he looked at Clint’s shirt which was really filled with blood by now. “Please tell me you have a change of clothes because I really don’t think you should be running around with blood on your shirt, and that’s coming from someone who really doesn’t care what you’re wearing.

Clint smirked, unable to help it. Of course it would be Tony of all people to fuss about what he had on his shirt. Or maybe he was just worried, which was nice because it seemed like no one ever worried for him anymore. It was hard to worry about an idiot who does whatever they want to do and is more than a little reckless.

“Probably. If not I can duck into Sitwell’s office and steal something. I’m pretty sure he has a shirt I can take.” Tony frowned, but nodded despite what looked like his better judgment. He glanced at his watch, before sighing again. “Okay, I need to go to this stupid thing, but keep yourself up okay? I don’t care who thinks you deserve this, defend yourself okay?” The mechanic sighed, before walking out of the bathroom and to whatever board meeting he needed to go too.

The archer stood there for a few more minutes, before unscrewing the vent that was in that room and hoisting himself up. He didn’t always travel by vents, contrary to popular belief, but it was safer than being on the ground right now and he wanted to slip in and out of Sitwell’s office without being seen. He didn’t need any questions like how he ended up getting his nose broken.

Speaking of which, he would need to stop by medical to get it set again. They wouldn’t ask questions, thank god. They probably would think that he ran into a door or something, which is something that he needed them to think. He really didn’t want any questions like the ones he knew he was going to get.

Clint hovered over Sitwell’s office vent, not sure if he knew he was there or really didn’t know. He sometimes didn’t let on when he did know, which was frustrating. He waited until he was gone before he dropped in and stole a shirt. Sitwell and him were about the same height, but there was a difference in their shoulders so that it was loose by his shoulders. He apparently had smaller shoulders, but it was nice in a way because it was just loose on him.

The archer pulled off his shirt and threw it up in the vent. He’d get it later, before he left anyway. He just needed to get it out of there before Sitwell started smelling blood from the vent, but they weren’t supposed to be used today so he was pretty sure that he could wait to get it again. Now he would just have to answer the question about why he was wearing a shirt that obviously did not fit him.

He frowned as he walked out of his handler’s office, buttoning up the shirt and tucking it into his jeans. There was nothing he could do now but continue about his day.

But first, he needed to go to medical to make sure that his nose wasn’t broken. Because the last thing he needed was to never figure that out and be walking around with a broken nose. That was less then fun.

He knocked on the door, letting himself in when he saw one of them acknowledge him. “Agent Barton? Are you okay?” The nurse smiled kindly, but looked almost apprehensive. He had a reputation with medical, which probably wasn’t a good thing now that he thought about it. They were always apprehensive on helping him, which could be bad on most days.

“I think I broke my nose. I haven’t really looked in the mirror though so can you check for me?” He smiled sheepishly, hoping that no one asked why his nose had been broken when he had no real mission today. Thankfully, she didn’t and instead made him sit up on the table so she could look at his nose better. “You have to be more careful, Agent. You end up here even when you aren’t on missions.” She said quietly, and with a small smile. She wasn’t going to ask, he knew she wasn’t, but just the fact she said something about it made him frown. “Yeah, well, I’ll try my best for you.” He couldn’t help but say, winking at her.

She blushed, before starting to gently feel at his nose. When she got midway up her nose, he winced from the pain and she hummed quietly. “I do feel a little fracture. It’s still in place, but I think I’m going to put a splint there to keep it in place as it heals. Is that okay with you?” She asked as she started to move away to get one. Before she did, Clint read her badge. “Of course it is Dr. Peterson.” He said sweetly, and yeah if he had an alternative motive now, who could blame him? This day sucked and she was cute. Except that one night stands with people you worked with always ended up awkward because you worked with them.

And S.H.I.E.L.D technically said that you couldn’t do that, but when did that stop anyone?

In the end, he ended up just walking out with an annoying splint on his nose that he was probably going to take off soon. Clint walked back to Sitwell’s office, glad he was gone and grabbed his shirt. He was going home, he couldn’t do anything today. He really really couldn’t.

The archer left a note for Sitwell, since he didn’t want him to worry even though he probably would. It seemed that all his handlers had a tendency to worry, not that he blamed them. He gave them a lot of reasons to do that that he wish he could change but he couldn’t no matter how much he wanted too.

He walked home, even though he easily could have taken a taxi (with the small amount of money he had in his pocket, probably not actually) or the bus but he needed this fresh air.

He needed the pain in his nose to remember that he was still there despite everything and yeah everything sucked right now but he had to keep trudging on despite himself.

Despite everything.

He nearly tripped over something that was at his feet that he didn’t notice. When he gathered his balance and looked down. It seemed that he had tripped over a little ball of black fur that was currently shivering or trembling next to leg. He couldn’t tell which, but he couldn’t leave the little guy here.

When he stooped over, he noticed it was a kitten with one bright blue eye. The other one seemed to be gone and it looked at him thoughtfully before meowing pitifully.

“Aw, what happened to you?” Clint asked it, as if it could speak to him. Seeing as it couldn’t, it just blinked. “Come on, we’re going to get you to a little vet hospital and see if you have one of those chips and can get you back to your home.”

He still had most of the day ahead of him, and he could spend it at a little animal hospital if need be. The archer walked to the nearest one that he knew of, because yeah he volunteered there sometimes so sue him.

“Clint! How are you today?” The lady at the desk asked, all teeth in her smile. Clint couldn’t help but smile back, but not as enthused as she was. “I’m fine, Penny. I found a little fluff ball of a cat, I was wondering if you could check and see if they’re okay and if there’s one of those chips in there that would put it to an owner since it doesn’t have a collar.” He also had no idea what gender it was. He was never good with that.

Penny nodded, calling the doctor to tell him he was there. It was a slow day, since it was the middle of the day on Wednesday, probably.

He was seen right in and was rather in and out in the end. The kitten was a girl, no shots and no chips but it was also in right health even with the missing eye that seemed to have happened to her when she was first born. The archer frowned, but didn’t say anything.

In the end, he opted to bring her home with him, naming her Lucky because she really was when you thought about it.

Clint didn’t have the money for a cat, barely had money for himself, but something told him that the little fluff ball could help him in some way.

Or maybe he was just hopeful and lonely. Either could work.

He made a stop at the store to get the things he would need for a cat before finally catching a bus. The archer hid the kitten in his jacket, since he knew that animals would not be welcome but what else could he do?

Clint heaved a sigh as he walked into his apartment and sat down on his couch, still holding the little cat that he had decided to name Lucky. “I’ve got all your food and stuff here, little girl, but you’ve got to promise me you won’t make a mess on the floor if I leave you alone for a few seconds. I want you to be house trained.” He said, really to himself, as the kitten looked blearily up at him.

“Don’t give me that look, you need to promise me on this, because I can’t have you going around and peeing on the carpet. I don’t have that much money.” He didn’t have any, actually.

He put the young kitten down on the floor, who just ambled forward until it walked on the carpet before plopping itself down right there.

Clint laughed lightly, putting the litter box right next to her, because really she might have a few problems from the anesthetics that she was under. He’ll put it somewhere else later, probably.

As Lucky slept in the middle of the living room, Clint took the time to start writing again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all that have been reading this, it really means a lot to me <3 I'm so close to finishing this story for NaNo and I want to thank you all for helping me get to that feat :) I hope you all had a happy Thanksgiving!


	7. Gravity- Sara Bareilles

Like I said before, the first person I ever loved was Natasha, fittingly enough. After I put her in S.H.I.E.L.D, we were probably a little too close, and at the time I think in both of our heads we thought that our relationship needed to go to sex. Or maybe I did, and she just went along with it because she needed an easy lay every so often. I don’t know what was running through her mind. I mean, don’t get me wrong, the sex was fantastic but when it came down to it I think we were better off as friends. That didn’t really stop me from being a tad bit heartbroken when we broke it off but I think it’s better that way now. Besides it’s fun to confuse people when they think that we’re dating, but we’re not. Though, don’t get me wrong, I was a tinsy bit in love with her.

This chapter is going to be about how much and how fucking easily I fall in love with beautiful, amazing women and then get my heart broken really.

Now, when I was still in my younger days at SHIELD, but after the whole thing with Natasha, I went on a mission with a person named Agent Barbara (Bobbi) Morse codename Mockingbird. She was young, fiery, but was strict when it came to the rules. Her weapon of choice was a battle stave. Really awesome little think. You could put them together to make a giant staff that is pretty much unbreakable, or you could take them apart for two steal batons. Really, it was an awesome weapon and I still get impressed when I see her using it because she knows her weapon like the back of your head before she knocks you out.

Our mission was kind of hard, now that I think about it. Infiltrate A.I.M and figure out what the hell they wanted to do with S.H.I.E.L.D, since we had heard whispers of things lately. Mind control something. That mission was the first taste I had at not being in my own head, even if it was for a few seconds.

Turns out they wanted to control the agents so that they turned against each other, you know, things that would ultimately help them because they’re wimps and can’t fight us themselves.

As much as this was a serious mission, I couldn’t help but be more focused on making Bobbi smile. To make her laugh and to talk to her more than I was paying attention to my surroundings. I was well smitten with her, and it was going to come back to bite me a few times. The first one being the damned mission.

Someone snuck up on me and tried to use their weird hypnosis on me that involved sound waves and something weird. I don’t know, it was kind of fucked up. So, naturally, I did the stupidest thing I could think of. I took one of my sonic arrow heads and turned it on to block the frequency.

It also happened to be just high enough to make me unable to hear eighty percent of things. Yeah, I remember that. I remember hearing a loud ringing, feeling blood come out of my ears and panicking. Bobbi was there, she was helping me calm down before I alerted anyone of our presence. We had to destroy the place before we left, so we did that quickly, but she had to help me when there were enemies sneaking around us.

She didn’t really realize my hearing was gone until we had gotten to the control room to find a self-destruct button and she was trying to talk to me and I didn’t answer.

She knew something was wrong, because I had been flirting with her the whole time and she thought I wouldn’t miss a time to flirt with her. God, she is so damn smart and she amazed me every single day.

I still keep up with her, and she continues to amaze me.

When we got back to S.H.I.E.L.D, she sent me to medical where they fitted me with hearing aids. Still wear them after all this time. They say they give me the same hearing as Daredevil but I’m a little iffy on that bit of knowledge. Doesn’t really make sense to me, but whatever. I also made a second pair for everyday use since the ones that R&D gave me are really for missions. They’re waterproof, a comm can fit over them, and basically they’re for the everyday assassin and spy that can’t hear anything.

So, after that whole horrible thing happened, I asked Bobbi on a date. I didn’t really expect her to say yes, because why would you when you just saved the guy from the mission that he fucked up on and then became deaf.

Except that she totally said yes and I was so fucking happy. I asked Natasha what I should wear and what I should do and she laughed at me because of how much I was freaking out because I wanted to impress her so bad.

I ended up taking her to Carney Island, riding the rides and playing games there. I won her a shit ton of stuffed animals because I was a circus guy myself I could do anything.

It wasn’t until a few dates after that, I think we were seeing a stupid superhero movie, that I finally had the balls to lean in and kiss her.

Her lips were soft, I’ll always remember that. Her mouth was sweet and salty from the butter and the popcorn she had been eating and I fell in love just like that. I fell in love with her so hard that Natasha thought I should have married her right then and there with how smitten I was.

After that, I guess it became a serious relationship. I bought her jewelry, candy, flowers, anything that I thought girls loved and I did it because I wanted to make her happy. Wanted her to see how much I loved her without actually saying the words because we were still both S.H.I.E.L.D agents. We both still knew what would happen if either of us said the words. Something would happen to us, as something always does, and we would be standing over the hospital bed upset. We had demanding jobs, and neither of us could help that.

But I was still so determined to let her know what I felt.

Two years I went without telling her I loved her, so I thought of the best way to say it. I thought that the best way would be to propose her. Halfway through our third year together, I had finally picked the right ring, and it was just the matter of finding the right time to propose.

Except…

Except by the time I had found the right time, it was a way to tell me that we weren’t working out. That I had become to secretive and she was worried and she didn’t want to be with someone who couldn’t tell her all that they could, because she knew that I hadn’t had any missions that would have involved that.

I was…. Heartbroken is too mild. I felt like someone had punched a hole in me and then expected me to try and fill it up with something again. Except that I couldn’t, I really honest to god could not build myself back up from that.

There hasn’t been anyone else for me but her.

Let me tell you, returning an engagement ring is actually the worst, everyone tries to be nice about it, but they try to hard so that it ends up that you know they’re pitying you. I almost didn’t want to do it, because I didn’t want it to be over. I didn’t want to forget the feeling of being completely and utterly in love.

I soon realized that having the money to drown your sorrows was better than having the actual reminder that it ever happened. Needless to say, I sold the ring and started going into some old habits which consisted of drinking until I was drunk and smoking half a pack a day. If I was really upset, it was a whole pack.

I think Phil realized what was wrong when I started showing up every day to work with a hangover, and he pulled me into his office and forced me to tell him what happened.

I broke, I told him everything, and he just listened. No fucking emotions on his face because he does that, but when I ended up a crying mess on his couch he sat on the table next to me and told me that it was going to get better. That I shouldn’t forget but instead I should live and learn.

He especially told me that I shouldn’t continue on like I was, that I needed to think about what I was doing and move past it. He would help me, I remember him saying, but I needed to work on my end too. I couldn’t just dissolve into what I was before, not when we’ve been working so hard to become a better man.

I moved past Bobbi, ever so damn slowly. It hurt to even see something that reminded of her, before that was down to a dull ache and then… Nothing.

I still love her, and I might still marry her if given the chance, but I have moved on as best as I could have.

Except I was stupid and decided to hurt another gorgeous woman in the process of my moving on. It was about two years, after that whole mess of Budapest, which I will explain about later. I don’t think I can talk about that right now, and it doesn’t really go along with the theme of my fucked up relationships.

Her name was Jessica Drew, and she was a gorgeous, smart, practical woman who realized that she really didn’t deserve me. She was my rebound, embarrassingly enough. And I never should have done it, never should have led her on like that but I did and I can’t take that back. I still feel bad about it, and needless to say that relationship was ended very quickly when she realized just what was going on. Like I said, she was smart and knew that I was being a douche and dumped my ass. Really, good for her.

Except I think I’m starting to put on my eyes on someone else, and like every other instance of my life, it’s a horrible decision because they’re always too good for me, damn it.

I swear, my personal life is going to kill me slowly as it is with all the damned people I choose to fall head over heels with that are so much better off without ever having met me because I’m a god damned screw up who doesn’t know how to live their life without bringing someone else down with them.

Because I don’t know how to live life in general without constant paranoia.

Except this time, the person I decided to fall for is Tony fucking Stark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay for the next installment! I'm so close to being done I can taste it, but I will keep going even when I'm done with 50,000. Thank you to all who has read and left kudos! You all are wonderful <3


	8. Desperado- The Eagles

Clint was lounging at the still getting fixed up Stark Tower. He sat on the couch, ignoring the cold air that was blowing in from a broken window that was still there from the attack. Tony was either too lazy to get a new pane for it or too busy. Since the day at S.H.I.E.L.D, Clint hasn’t seen him at all. His best bet to ever talking to him was seeing him and striking up a conversation. He had his phone number (why, he didn’t really remember, but he wasn’t complaining about it now, though it felt kind of stalkerish) but he never called him. Or texted him, but his phone was not built for the weird thing that was texting. He didn’t have a keyboard for that thing, since he actually still had a flip phone.

That was kind of embarrassing, now that he thought about it. With how technological Tony was, and he still had a fucking flip phone. How was he supposed to impress him if he had something so old like a flip phone?

Clint frowned at the thing, absently opening it and closing it to make the little snap noise each time. Something to idly do while he waited for Tony to get done with whatever he was doing. He didn’t know what, but he had to talk to him. Tell him thanks for the save back at S.H.I.E.L.D and the pick me up that he helped with. That whole day had been rough up until he went home, which is saying something.

So, he laid on the couch until he could see him. He could just see him downstairs in his workshop, talking to someone on the phone. Pep, or an investor or what, with a fitting shirt and jeans because he had just finished up working on a car.

The thought made him smile, still watching himself as he idly flipped his phone open and closed. He noticed when Tony started climbing the stairs, he just didn’t feel like looking up. Maybe he shouldn’t seem that interested.

Fuck, he was a teenager again. All those teenage years that he missed focusing on the practice made him fucking horrible at actually doing things like talk to people that he really really likes. This was supposed to something he learned in school. When you had a good reason to be awkward around people. When you’re a thirty three people around you expect that you know everything.

Except that he totally didn’t and he actually hated that, because it was annoying when you thought about it.

“Barton? I wasn’t expecting you. What are you doing here?” Clint glanced up when Tony started to talk to him, shrugging slightly. “I’m here to talk. Slightly on S.H.I.E.L.D business slightly not.” Okay, that was totally a lie but he doubted that he would notice. Probably. “Are you going to take up my offer to live here?” The archer chuckled to himself, shaking his head. “Look, I know you got everyone else but me, but I like my apartment thank you very much.” Okay, he didn’t, but it was his and he was secure with it. He didn’t want to move into a new place, something unfamiliar. It would freak him out even more when he woke up from his nightmares.

Recently, Tony had turned Stark Tower into a sort of quasi quarters for the Avengers. He invited everyone to join, has pretty much been forcing and begging, and now the only person that hadn’t officially moved in (besides Thor since he was doing godly things) was Clint. He just didn’t want to move, especially not after he got Lucky. She needed to get used to something, not keep moving around. It could confuse her, and that was the last thing he needed his little kitten to be.

Well, he was going to use that as his excuse anyway.

Tony huffed, sitting down next to him on the couch, after he had pushed the archer’s legs off. “Fine, but you’re missing out on so many awesome things and I’m going to let you in one day and you’re the one that’s going to be begging me to live here.” Clint smirked. “So you’ll admit that you’re begging?” He teased while Tony huffed. “Is that really all you care about? Is hearing me beg for you to come into my house that I am paying for you and putting in archery ranges for you.”

The archer’s head popped up from on the couch, making Tony laugh. “Yeah, I’m making a whole new archery range for you in the gym. It would be really awesome if it wasn’t going to just sit there and not be used because the only bastard in the world who does archery for a living decides not to live here.” Clint whined, letting his head fall back to the couch. “You’re a persuasive little shit, Tony Stark.” He mumbled while the said man laughed again. “Don’t you know it. What can I say, I have a whole mansion tower to fill up with people and things. The more people the better since I’d rather just buy things for people then buy things for myself. I do that all the time anyway.” Tony shrugged, learning back on the chair he was sitting on.

“Can I test it out?” Clint finally asked, glancing up at Tony who shrugged. “I don’t knowww Do you deserve to test out the archery range and gym that I put up. I mean, really, you don’t even live here. Come on now.” The agent suddenly turned to the billionaire and gave him the best puppy dog eyes that he could muster.

“Fuck you. You suck.” Tony huffed as he took a pillow and threw it at Clint who just laughed and caught it, hugging it to his body. “You can’t love me, I’m too amazing to ever be hated. Come on, let’s go to the gym and you can show me all your new toys.” He said while standing and taking Tony by the arm and pulling him up. “Come on you lazy asshole. You’re coming with me since you have to because this is your tower and I can’t find shit without you. Unless you want me to go bother JARVIS until he tells me where to be and go.” Tony smiled. “It’s not like he’d mind. He’ll have more to do when Thor is here. I can’t be around to carry him around the tower like I can with you.”

“So what you’re saying is that you want to carry me around because you think I’m better than Thor?” Tony pushed Clint just from him saying that, into the elevator. “Yeah, well, you certainly are more attractive. You have the nice subtle rippling muscles. Thor’s is too in your face about it.”

Clint wasn’t sure if he was teasing or he was actually saying that. He should feel as abashed as he felt from the words because he knew it wasn’t true. He cleared his throat, and they talked happily about another subject as they got to the gym and Tony showed him the finer points of what he did before they started to actually use it.

He started at the archery range, which was really really fucking awesome once he was playing with it himself. He was drawn away after a little bit though, by Tony who wanted to spar with him. Needless to say, the archer won, but it was a pretty decent match. He was surprised that the mechanic could hold his own so well.

After that, they went to go get a shower and change of clothes. They retreated to their own floors and Clint absently stepped into his too fresh and too new room. It had never been used, never even seen a person since Tony renovated and left it to its new owner that never really came around to care for it.

He took a moment to look around, looking out the windows at the view, before he headed to the bathroom. Clint decided that he loved Stark Towers solely for the showers. They were one of those fancy showers with power jet streams that beat hot water into your soul, which would probably cleanse it from all the fucking red he had in it. You could also plug in your IPod and listen to music and it is literally gorgeous.

God, he fucking loved showers.

Which is why he kinda spent all his time in the one that was on his floor at Stark Tower that really should have been used as a guest bedroom since he didn’t even live there. He just stayed for the showers really. And now the gym, which was really just brilliant. It was better than what they had at SHIELD which was something really. They tried so damn hard to be the best in everything, but of course they lost to Tony Stark.

Then again, SHIELD were fucking cheapskates when they wanted to be with the amount of money they had which just so happened to be more then Tony could even think about. Clint didn’t think that he could ever think of Tony as cheap, actually the idea alone was really just laughable.

The archer stepped out of the shower, IPod still blasting as he idly sung to it and dried his hair and body before he would get dressed.

It really didn’t help that Tony barged in, without knocking mind you, while he was doing this. If Clint was honest, he was more embarrassed that he came in while _Hot and Cold_ by Katy Perry was playing then the fact that he had just walked in with him naked.

“What the fuck Stark.” He huffed, coming to his senses before Tony did, who was staring and it really didn’t help with everything he was doing right now. The major one being that he just fucking burst into his bathroom while he was taking a shower. Or after taking a shower, which is pretty much the same thing. “Come on, shoo. I’ll be out in just a second to talk to you about whatever the hell you feel like talking about. God, you couldn’t even leave me alone for two seconds to take a shower and get dressed.” He chuckled as he pushed the mechanic out of the bathroom and closed the door. When he did that, he turned off his music and groaned quietly to himself.

Jesus, that was the worst possible position for him to be in with Tony walking it, wearing no damned clothes. If it got any worse, he would have been bent over picking something up.

Clint flushed, rubbing at his temples for a moment before he grabbed his clothes and pulled them on. At least he was clothed now, he thought to himself as he threw his towel over the towel rack to let it dry and walked out of the room. “Okay, you big baby what do you want?” Tony still looked eager, despite the little mishap that happened a few seconds earlier. “Clint, how well do you know math?” The said man frowned, not sure where this was going to lead. “Um, pretty well I guess. You’re probably better at it than I am.” He shrugged, as if it wasn’t a big deal. He dropped out before he even went to high school, most people were smarter than him.

Tony just grinned, leaning over his work bench to meet the blond haired man. “Well, I heard from someone that you’re a fucking genius at math, and I wanted to see if that was true.” That made the archer roll his eyes. “I bet Natasha or Katie told you that. Don’t listen to them, they’re just making shit up to make me feel better. They think I’m like some kind of math prodigy because of how well I can shoot. Like shooting is anything to do with math.” He huffed.

Tony started laughing, as if what Clint was saying was extremely hilarious.  He didn’t think it was that funny, which caused him to frown. “Why are you laughing at me? It’s true!”

“Barton, Jesus I’m starting to wonder what you were told about the sport you know so fucking well. Archery is like all math. You have to find trajectory and all of that nonsense. Not even counting the damned wind that could be happening, that is always happening, because the world isn’t perfect physics unfortunately. God, Clint, you do all of that in your head. I mean, that’s probably why you shoot so fucking well, because that would make you have the perfect shot. To have the athletics and the smarts to do what you do, that makes you the world class archer. That’s why you’re perfect buddy, because you’re a fucking genius.” Tony’s eyes were sparkling, like he had just finished a problem that was bugging him for a few days. “Come on, just to try this process, I’m going to give you some things to solve. I can’t believe you don’t think you’re great at this. You need some confidence or something.”

Clint sighed, but started to follow Tony regardless. He trusted him up to a point, even though he really didn’t want to do this. He didn’t need Tony laughing at him for not being smart enough in his standards. He’s already been through that from when he was a kid.

“Tonnnyyyy.” He drew out, sitting on his workbench as the man started to type up something on his computer, before taking it and throwing it out as a hologram. “Here, try and figure this out.” He said, sitting next to him to see what he was going to do.

The archer frowned, looking at the problem. It wasn’t a normal problem that he might see on the street. This had to be for something specific, but what that was he didn’t know.

It didn’t matter anyway, because he thought that he knew how to solve it anyway. “What, is this your really easy one?” He huffed, not looking at Tony as he started to move around the letters and very slowly he started to solve it.

When he was finished, he looked over at the mechanic who was grinning at him. “That was unsolvable until three years ago. Some people still can’t solve it, and you solved it in,” he checked his watch, “Ten minutes.”

Clint frowned. “You’re fucking with me.” Tony laughed. “I’m not fucking with you, but if you have some time later I could be.” The archer rolled his eyes and elbowed his friend in the side. “Shut up, seriously. That wasn’t even hard. The only tricky part was trying to figure out what energy was.” He peered at the problem. “E was for energy right?”

Tony couldn’t help but laugh, but he nod to confirm what Clint had asked. “Sure was, and that’s in the units of joules so you put a J there.” He told him as he moved it next to his answer. “Dude, could you like solve the unsolvable math problems? You could get rich from that you know.” The archer arched an eyebrow at Tony, pretty sure that this was one joke after another.

“I’m like pretty sure you don’t get money from solving math problems. I mean, come on Tony. I’m not a dumb shit.” Clint chuckled to himself, glancing over at the man who was watching him fondly.

It was a weird feeling that welled inside him from the look. It was a look he never really experienced before. He don’t think anyone ever really looked at him like that.

Clint swallowed thickly, glancing away. This was getting into dangerous territory that he knew he could never tell himself to leave from. He was stubborn and selfish and could hurt everyone in the end.

“Of course you can get money for solving math equations, especially one that hasn’t been solved yet. I know people that will give you thousands of dollars for the answer and how you solved it.” Tony finally said, looking away from Clint as he started to set up a new problem. “Hell, you’d get more money then what S.H.I.E.L.D would ever pay you probably.” He told him matter of factly before he put his arms down and looked back at Clint. “Okay, let’s see what you can do with this.”

Clint sighed, wondering if Tony was just going to keep doing this before he realized he was not as good at math as he thought he was.

He hesitated for a moment, moving the numbers around and changing them before he hit a block. He looked over it for a long while before huffing as he put his hands down. “You can’t solve this.” The archer turned to his friend. “You gave me an unsolvable equation didn’t you?” He huffed, as Tony chuckled but looked the most interested in something thus far.

“This is the farthest I’ve ever seen someone take it though.” He muttered, moving some of the numbers around with the hologram to see if he could help. “No, look, you can keep going. If you just divide by the cosine of the fifty-five.” He pointed out, helping the archer for a moment when his spirit was renewed for a moment, before letting him do his thing.

Of course, Tony being Tony still pointed out things to Clint every so often because he was an asshole and if they did get this then he wanted to be able to get part of the credit.

Except, he actually wasn’t sure he wanted part of the credit if it meant that Clint thought he was actually a flipping brilliant man. As much as he wanted to build Tony Stark

It took about an hour and a half, but Clint finally sat back, looking annoyed but like he just finished the hardest mission of his life. For all he knew, he probably just have. “I think I solved it.” He said quietly, unsure. He could have made a mistake anywhere, but he didn’t think he did.

Then again, he didn’t know anything of what he was doing so he could just be fucking up all over the place.

Tony took a look at it as Clint hopped off the table and started to look around. As he checked his work, the archer found a typewriter. It was so off putting in the room that was full of robotics and mechanics in general. It was a stark difference to the time that was and the time now. Two brilliant inventors. Clint mused to himself as his fingers played with the keys.

His father used to have a typewriter. He played with it all the time, though if his dad ever found him doing that he got pissed and hit him. He never looked at it though, and it became a thing for him and Barney to send each other notes with the typewriter.

Once their dad found out though, he was so pissed and hit them hard that day. It was bad, but so damn worth it looking back on it. Now as he got older, any little thing that he did to annoy his father when he was younger was the funniest thing to him even though he was in the worst position to it. Clint laughed to himself at the thought.

He’s been through worse by now that his childhood was just a bad memory now. Something he could talk about freely. It was the events recently that gave him trouble. His dad pushing him down stairs was not as bad as never having your own damn thought because some big shot God that wanted him to kill everyone that he loved.

Clint pursed his lips, zoning out as Tony nearly jumped in joy because yeah, he had gotten it right and he never would have expected that. He expected the best, sure, but not this fucking great.

The mechanic rushed over to meet Clint, but stopped, confused, when he wasn’t reacting to him. “Clint?” He asked, touching his shoulder before he suddenly had it knocked off and Clint looked like he was going to punch him.

The woes of being lost in thought about the worst possible topic he could think of at the moment.

The archer realized what he was about to do, just before he did it and quickly snapped his hand back before he could land it into Tony’s face. They stared at each other for a moment, Tony’s eyes wide and fuck was he shaking?

He was scared. He was scared of _him_.

Clint finally had the decency to stumble backwards, hand hitting the typewriter buttons and there was the faint clicking of them being used. He suddenly he realized that no matter how hard he tried to forget the memories that were there when he was a kid, he could never do that.

He was always going to be his father’s son.

Clint’s hand unclenched, finally letting go of the fist he had made. They still stared at each other, neither knowing what to do and both of them knowing that they were the subject to abuse to their fathers.

It wasn’t common knowledge for the public to know, even for Tony, but they both knew it from the files and conversation clues.

Clint wasn’t sure if he should try and choke out an apology, but quickly decided against it as he pushed himself off the desk and headed toward the door of the workshop.

Tony didn’t try to stop him, and he didn’t expect him too. He didn’t even have the dignity to walk calmly out of the room. He fucking ran, wanting to get out of there as fast as he could before his breathing started to speed up.

No, this couldn’t happen again or Sitwell will call someone. He never knew his handler not to keep to his word about something like this, but he couldn’t have anyone know about what was happening to him. He could keep it straight, he just needed time.

He didn’t even know if time counted in this crazy math problem. All he knew was that he needed to get the ever living fuck out of there, out of the tower even. He took the stairs, needed his lungs to burn from the exercise. Needed to remember that this was him and that he was thinking. Because sometimes he didn’t think that this was real. That once again, this was all in his head and he didn’t know…

He didn’t know whether he was about to kill someone, because for a week and a half he answered to orders he never knew he wanted to follow.

Once Clint was outside he slowed down. He slowed to a jog, than to a walk, and then he stumbled and almost fell while trying to get back to his apartment.

He caught himself on the wall of a building, taking deep breaths so that he didn’t start hyperventilating. That was the last thing he needed to do right now, because for all he knew Tony could have called the police on him. He could be on the run right now.

Except that he really knew he wasn’t. Tony would never to do that to him, even if he actually did hit him.

The thought made Clint shudder, and didn’t help his current mental state. God, what the fuck was wrong with him? He needed to pull himself together, but he didn’t know how. Didn’t even know if he wanted too even when he was upset like this.

Because this is how he lived his whole life, with this anger that was sometimes crippling, but it was only now that it was coming out…

_You are so filled with the kindness of a hero, but down in there, there is anger, Agent Barton. I bet with a few hours we can harness that anger and use it to our advantage don’t you think?_

Clint jerked backwards, backing into people, because this was downtown New York after all.

Loki. That was his voice, and he’s heard those words before which means….

Which means some of the blank spots in his memory had just been filled again, and just like every other time this has happened, Clint started getting a little weak. He tried to find a place to sit down, but he was too startled and stunned to find a place before the memory hit him in full force.

As his mind was living things that it had forgotten, his body slinked to the streets where he lay there. There were screams of course, there always were, and someone probably called 911 because there soon were ambulances.

Except that the archer was completely and utterly oblivious to the goings on that were happening around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made 50,000! Thank you all so so much for reading this and helping me to this goal <3 I haven't finished this story yet and I'm planning to keep going so don't worry :3  
> Again, thank you to everyone who's read this and left nice kudos. I hope you like this story as much as I do :)


	9. Crazy- Gnarls Barkley

The first thing he ever saw was blue. He suspected that if he ever had the chance to sleep in the two weeks, he would have woken up to blue.

It was a comforting color to him at the time, when there was panic in his mind before it all just shut down.

Clint was talking to one of the mercenaries that had been hired, some from his suggestion and some were just found, as Loki walked up to him. He was still getting used to the change in scenery and working place. It didn’t help that he had to answer to someone new too. He knew why, the blue haze helping with that, but there was also a part of him that was working against the haze that was in his mind.

He paused, thinking about it and what it meant because this was the truth wasn’t it? Loki had said so himself, and yet there was still something that he couldn’t put his finger on…

“What are you thinking about, my hawk?” A voice drawled from behind him and he let the thread of thought that he was chasing wander away from him. “Nothing sir.” He murmured, and the god looked at him thoughtfully. He didn’t believe him, that much was obvious, but he didn’t look mad.

Thank God too, since they all had seen what happened when Loki was pissed off. Despite most of their loyalty, no one wanted to get at the wrong end of him in case they burst into flames like the last guy.

“Well, in any case, I have something I must discuss with you if I may.” Loki made a motion for Clint to walk. He did, and the god followed behind him for a moment before coming to walk by his side. “Was there anyone in that forsaken place you worked in before that you liked?” It sounded like a simple enough question, and Clint wasn’t about to deny his boss the knowledge he sought.

“There are two, actually. Agent Natasha Romanoff and Agent Phil Coulson.” Clint replied, glancing at the god to see what his reaction would be. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but for some reason the look that Loki had given was not it. It was contemplative, but there was a glint in his eye that was almost evil.

It made something in the archer’s heart stir in excitement. What could he possibly be thinking? Whatever it was, it was going to be the best idea that he’s had in a long time and how could he not go with that?

“Those people that you like, they must have been best friends of yours?” Clint simply nodded his head as Loki went on. “Well, you are in my company now, I hope you know, and I want you to show your loyalty in a different light.” The god paused, as if thinking of something, but they both knew what he was going to say.

“I want you to kill them.”

Clint grinned, the blue almost overwhelming in his eyes by now. “That was the best idea I heard from you all day, boss.” Loki smiled, before going about his business.

It was almost a week later, when they were preparing for the attack on the Helicarrier that Loki said it. Said the words that would later trigger Clint.

It would trigger him because he was angry, and he didn’t know why or how it had come out so easily. He had been so good at hiding it, so good at letting it all go.

Loki had grabbed his shoulder, and turned him around to talk about the plan. Clint would go after Natasha and if he could he would go after Coulson. If it came to it, Loki could kill either or both but it would be better if he did it.

After the eager talking between the two, Loki laughed. “You are so filled with the kindness of a hero, but down in there, there is anger, Agent Barton. I bet with a few hours we can harness that anger and use it to our advantage don’t you think?” Clint had laughed, and nodded at the statement.

And then…

And then it all went to hell and maybe it wasn’t really for a bad thing either…

Clint saw another flash of blue, and his head was suddenly killing him from the memories that were suddenly filling him. He would scream, if he remembered how.

Then his eyes snapped open and was blinded with white light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, I know. Sorry about that ^^; Thank you for all who took the time to read it, leave kudos and comments. You all are wonderful <3


	10. Walking With A Ghost- Tegan and Sara

Clint suddenly jolted awake, his arms strapped to a bed and the room a blinding white. He pulled, not sure what was happening and his mind panicked, going back to when he had first gotten out of Loki’s control.

Then the smell of anesthetics hit his nostrils and he knew where he was. Thankfully, he was not reliving what happened to him, like he thought he was. He wasn’t at SHIELD, he was in the hospital. Probably a normal one since he really didn’t see anything that would make it S.H.I.E.L.D’s.

The archer sighed, letting his head fall back to the pillow. He was always so lucky to have these flashbacks when he was alone at his apartment or somewhere where no one would notice.

It was as if the doctors were waiting for him to wake up because as soon as he was up and moving around as much as he could be, they would have to tell him exactly what was happening.

“Hello Mr. Barton. Good to see you awake.” The doctor smiled, but it looked too forced. Clint didn’t know what he did when he was sleeping, when he was having that vision, but it must have been something bad.

Clint looked at the doctor, grimacing at her. “Doc, let’s get right to it. You kind have me strapped down. There has to be some reason for it.” They looked at each other for a moment, before the doctor sat down. From where he was and the way that the light was hitting the badge, he could read her name. Doctor Day. If that wasn’t the most reassuring name he’s ever heard, then he didn’t know what was.

“Someone found you on the street, passed out, but when the ambulance came you started lashing out at whoever touched you. Naturally we had to strap you down so you didn’t hurt anyone.” Clint frowned at her words, before shrugging. “Well I’m awake now, and completely fine. I’d like to leave if you don’t mind.” He nearly begged, but managed to keep the small composure he had.

“I’m afraid, Mr. Barton, that I cannot do that. We’re running some tests right now that you need to stay and see what they say, and now that you’re awake we need to run some other tests with you.”

God that sounded horrible. Like there really was something wrong with him and he just didn’t know what. The archer let his head flop back onto the pillow and closed his eyes.

The process took far too long, but eventually he got out before the end of the day at the least. Now, he had to make the long and hard trek back to Tony. Before he could even begin to do that, his phone started ringing.

Clint didn’t bother to look at who it was, so he tiredly flipped his phone open and leaned against the wall. “Hello?”

“Clint?” The archer’s tired eyes suddenly looked more alert as he heard Tony’s voice drift over the phone. Before he could get another word in, Clint blurted in. “Tony, I am so fucking sorry. My head was not in the right place and I don’t know what happened. One moment I was thinking about, well, I was thinking about Loki and the next thing I knew I thought I was being grabbed.” He wasn’t going to tell him that he passed out and had that memory, but he hoped he could hear his sincerity.

He heard Tony sigh, which didn’t help what he was feeling right now. “Between you and me, it was startling and totally unexpected. I’m not blaming you for it, because I really don’t think you didn’t mean it. I’m just asking you not to do it again though. Anyway, get your ass back here. I’ve shown your equation to a group of my friends and I think they have something to say to you that you’ll love.”

Clint frowned, knowing that it must be something good but he didn’t know if he wanted to hear what his friends said. I mean, come on that was really fucking scary. You think Tony would have asked if he wanted that, but no he kind of just did whatever he wanted.

Except that it kind of made him smile, because that was Tony’s way of being sweet. At least, he thought so. He might have to get advice from Pepper. She knew his signs of affection in the first place since they have dated, and really, she can let him down lightly. Better to hear it from her then from Tony anyway.

The archer shook his head clearing his head before catching a taxi and going to Stark’s Tower. “Mr. Stark is waiting for you, sir.” J.A.R.V.I.S told Clint as soon as he walked into the tower, and Clint went into the elevator, pressing the level that he knew Tony was in, which was the workshop where he left him. “JARV, why don’t you call Tony, Tony?” Clint asked, because really, he’s been thinking about it for a while. “Because he really hates formalities and all.”

The AI was silent for a moment, before answering. “I was made after an old butler of the Stark house and so when he died, Mr. Stark used his mannerisms to create me. I am not obligated to call him by his formal name, but I believe he likes it more. Edwin Jarvis was his real father figure.” Clint didn’t know what he was thinking he was going to get as an answer, but it wasn’t that. He didn’t say anything else, just musing on that fact, but that went out of his head as the elevator doors opened and Tony descended over him like a bird of prey.

“Barton, I swear to God you are a millionaire now.” Clint smiled, but it looked a little uneasy. He didn’t want recognition for this, he was just doing it because Tony asked him too. He didn’t do it to get money he didn’t need.

Except that he actually desperately needed, he just didn’t want him to know that.

When he was pulled into the room, Clint noticed that up in the air was the faces of many people that he did not know, or have seen in passing and heard about because of S.H.I.E.L.D. He just knew that they were really really smart people, and for some weird reason they want to talk to him.

No, they want to talk to Tony.

“Mr. Stark, do you really believe us to expect that this man has solved this formula when all others have tried before him? We all know it was you, so will you please tell us the facts and then we can be done with this.”

This was obviously an argument they’ve been having for a while, because Tony just looked exasperated.

“Clint, this is Alexander Grothendieck, Peter Lax, and John Thompson. Everyone, this is Clint Barton. The man who solved the equation you all are looking at right now.”

The archer felt too much like he was in the principal’s office waiting for something horrible to happen because everyone knew it was.

Except for Tony, apparently.

Yeah, this was going to end in tears and fighting, one that he was not going to be a part of because he was going to go to sleep. He was here, though, so he might as well just stay here and sleep on the floor that was given to him.

“Have you even had any schooling Mr. Barton?” Clint was snapped out of his revere by one of them asking a question. Thompson it was, and he frowned to himself. “Well, no. I never had the chance to go to high school and I never really went back when I actually got myself a job.” A good one, but he wasn’t going to redo that part of his life again. He already failed once.

The man huffed a laugh, and Clint was struggling to keep his shoulder’s straight and high, not slumped over like he wanted them to be, because no matter how confident he was about things like his shooting ability and how fucking great he was at his job despite what people thought, his schooling was something he was not so confident on.

He knew he was stupid, thanks. You didn’t need to tell him twice.

That’s when Tony started arguing with everyone, saying that Clint was the best mathematician that his world had ever seen and blah blah blah.

Clint took this opportunity to leave, too tired to deal with this. His arm hurt from having the doctors draw blood that in the end turned up negative. His stomach growled for food, but the fact of the matter was that he’d much rather sleep than eat anything.

The archer slugged to his floor, idly thinking about the memory flashbacks he had. Should he be more worried about them then he was or should he just keep trying to forget?

Hell if he knew, and he quickly decided that he was way too fucking tired to start this now. At least Dr. Day was nice. She was more welcoming and pleasant when she realized that he was not mentally unstable, for the most part, and so she started opening up her smile which was a gorgeous smile.

Though as he thought that, he couldn’t help but think about Tony’s smile.

Clint sighed and shook his head. This fucking crush was going to kill him, he decided as he toed off his shoes and fell into bed, still fully clothed but he didn’t care. He just needed to succumb to the darkness that was resting just behind his eyes.

It really didn’t long for the archer to fall asleep, not even under the blankets that were on the bed. He was quite content with lying on top of them too, apparently.

Tony only noticed that Clint was gone after he had ended the calls with the other men. It was a waste, trying to convince them that it was Clint who did all the work, not himself. So in the end, he deleted all copies but one so they couldn’t reproduce it and kept the one copy under lock and key in JARVIS’ memory bank. Only he could get in it, so it was completely safe until someone would fucking listen to him and see that he was not that smart to figure out something like that.

Yeah, he didn’t say that often either.

The mechanic asked where the other man was, if he left or stayed at the tower, before heading to his floor. He thought he was still awake, but it was clear that he was asleep once he walked in. It was silent, and from the elevator he can see into Clint’s room and that he was fast asleep.

Tony laughed quietly when he saw how he was positioned and so he sneaked into his room to drape one of the blankets over him before walking back to the elevator to go to his own floor. He’d see him again tomorrow and congratulate him on his victory in all things math later. He might even bring him along to some of the labs he needs to do. Tony smiled, pressing the button to his floor and letting the doors close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you to all that's read and left comments/kudos. You all are awesome for putting up with this story <3 and I did use real mathematicians but I don't know anything about them. They're probably a lot nicer than what I portrayed them as :P


	11. Take It Down- The Wailin’ Jennys

When Clint woke up he was bleary and all he wanted was to go back to sleep. He was about too, actually, curling up under the cover before two things hit him.

One, he was still over at Tony’s place and was currently sleeping on his bed and where did this cover come from? (Which really wasn’t the point at all.) And two, he was still at Tony’s place and Lucky was not.

Son of a bitch.

He sat straight up, gathering up his things as he headed to the elevator. He had set out food and water for the little girl, but she had been a stray and who knows how much she could have eaten and drank.

God, he honestly was horrible. How could he have forgotten that poor little kitten? That was the only thought running through his head as he brushed past Tony who was carrying groceries. Vaguely, he knew that he had said something but he was too worried about Lucky that he wasn’t really listening.

Tony didn’t look hurt, more confused. He understood that Clint had things that he needed to do and sometimes some things came up, but he was planning to eat lunch with him.

The mechanic shrugged, letting the archer do what he needed too. He would only leave if there was something important going on. Probably. Tony frowned, but went to his floor where he would probably force Pepper to eat with him.

Clint got to his apartment in record time and when he opened it, Lucky meowed and plopped a half-eaten rat in front of him. The archer wrinkled his nose before laughing softly. “I guess I shouldn’t worry about you, should I? You know how to take care of yourself.” He sat on the ground and gently pet her head while she watched him curiously before eating the rest of the rat. Guess he had some mice in his apartment, but he figured that it would be dealt with soon enough because of the kitten.

The archer left Lucky to her food, because he really really didn’t want to see that. Instead, he starting rearranging everything that was for her. He moved her litter box to a corner in the kitchen, because that was the only place for it where it wouldn’t make a mess if some of the litter fell out because then he could just sweep it up.

He put her food and water near it by another wall near the sink so it would be easier to get water if she needed it.

When he put down the water, Lucky abandoned her rat in favor of the water and Clint took the time to throw the thing out the window, with heavy duty gloves of course.

He wasn’t a germaphobe, but he was not going to touch a mostly eaten rat thank you very much. “Please don’t eat rats in the middle of the living room again, thanks.” He told her, somewhat sternly but she just meowed and scratched at his ankle.

He huffed, poking her with his toe before starting to make something for himself. All he had was frozen pizza, so he put it in the oven and went about reading some files and doing stupid paperwork for S.H.I.E.L.D before it was ready. When it was ready and he went to go get it, Lucky was sitting on the part of the counter just next to the oven. “Come on now, I have to put the pizza there I need you to move.” He chided, as he picked her up and put her on the table while she meowed at him.

Clint laughed, before he took out the pizza and tried to find the pizza cutter, before failing miserably at finding it and decided to use a knife. It wouldn’t work very well, but hell it was something to cut it.

When he brought a plate of the pizza to the table to eat and continue doing work, Lucky continued to sit by him. She watched him curiously, before padding over to his plate and starting to nibble on one of the pieces of pizza. The archer didn’t even notice until his hand brushed against the little fluff ball. “My pizza!” Clint almost sounded scandalized, had he not remembered that he was completely alone in his apartment and talking to this little kitten.

“You are not eating things that are mine when you just ate a rat, that’s just gross.” Clint whined, giving the little kitten the whole piece of pizza. “Little pizza cat you.” He muttered under his breath as he finished the rest of his food and his paperwork. The little demon, who was admittedly too adorable for her own good.

“I should show you to Tony, he’d probably love you.” He told her, trying not to think of himself as crazy as he felt with how he was talking to this kitten that he had found on the side of the road who was now eating a whole piece of pizza by herself.

Admittedly, Lucky was probably going to be his only company for a long time before something really awesome happened so he might as well enjoy her while it last.

“You know, I should get you some kind of toy.” Clint mused as the little cat meowed and curled up next to his hand on the table.

He decided he didn’t really mind if she was going to be his only company because at least she was adorable.

Suddenly he got a call, from his cell phone, which caused Lucky to meow again and bat at the piece of plastic. Clint shook his head at the kitten who looked at him at with an innocent look that was adorable if he knew that she wasn’t really that innocent.

“Hello?” He answered the phone, petting the top of Lucky’s head.

“Clint Barton, you are invited to my Halloween party.” Tony said into his ear, sounding much too excited and like he was in a business meeting where an argument was happening. God knows what Tony had done to make it like that, because he really didn’t think that people that held stocks for Stark Towers wouldn’t fight like that.

It was obvious that Tony had his thoughts somewhere else.

Clint put his cheek in his hand, and his elbow on his desk. He didn’t really want to go to a Halloween party, but it might be a good thing to actually be friends with people. Sitwell was nagging him to get new friends, as if that will help him at all.

He was going to just ignore that part and gather his friends where he could, which will just end up being Natasha still and maybe the team. He was still a little iffy on a couple of them, but a Halloween party might be fun. Especially if it was costumed, but he would have to figure out who to dress up as, which was the worst part.

“And yes, you have to dress up if that’s what you’re so silent about.” Clint had to hand it to Tony, he was pretty smart. “Thanks, I think that might sealed the deal.” The archer muttered, only being half sarcastic.

“I knew it would, though don’t go as something boring and conventional, I need you to think about this Barton or else nothing will be fun.” And with that Tony hung up, presumably to call the others and tell them what was happening.

Clint frowned, closing his phone and wincing when Lucky started to gnaw on his finger. “Well, what do you want now? I have to go find a Halloween costume to wear next week.”

The kitten meowed loudly, before jumping off the table and curling up on his nearby windowsill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After this, the updates are going to be a little irregular. I need to write the next chapters in the series from scratch and so yeah. Thank you all for putting up with me and reading it and doing a bunch of lovely things <3


	12. Time Warp- The Rocky Horror Picture Show

No, he really hated holidays especially Halloween when he was forced to wear costumes. Except that he totally wasn’t forced, he agreed and decided to pick his costume spur of the moment and was now extremely self-conscious. At least Natasha somewhat knew what she felt, because their costumes coincided, but damn it she was better at hiding it then he was.

He really was regretting going to this party themed from Rocky Horror Picture Show, and of course Natasha wanted to be the doctor, and while she was wearing the original costume she was wearing the green lab coat over it, not wanting to take it off unless she had too. She had also switched the corset so the ties would be at her back. This left Clint to be the guy in really really tight gold shorts.

It didn’t leave much to the imagination, that’s for sure.

“You look sexy, Barton, if that’s what you’re looking for.” Natasha told him, looking much too smug and Clint wasn’t sure if he should leave or go hide somewhere, but it was too late. Tony had seen them arrive and swaggered to them.

Clint suspected he was already drinking, which was slightly worrisome.

Tony grinned, glancing at Natasha first before letting his eyes roam Clint. He was embarrassed to say that he almost blushed from the attention he was getting from him.

“Rocky Horror, I like it. Though I don’t think I would have seen you rocking the gold shorts when I watched that movie, Barton.”

Well, at least he knew the reference. He was worried people would think that he wanted to come almost naked. He had slightly more decency than that, but if you really wanted to believe that than you shouldn’t ask Maria Hill about the Chicago incident.

Speaking of the devil…

Clint pointedly ignored her stare, frowning at Natasha who started to laugh behind her hand. Tony looked confused, and almost upset that he had been left out of some joke that he didn’t know about, but before he could ask Bruce came up and started talking to him.

He was going to give Bruce whatever he wanted, he was seriously wonderful.

The archer took this moment to put his arm around Natasha’s waist and steer her away from Tony. After they were a fair distance away and had champagne in their hands, because this was a Tony Stark Party after all, Natasha gave him a pointed look.

“I’m not talking to you about it.” Clint huffed, swallowing half of the drink in one gulp. “There’s nothing happening between Tony and I and I don’t need you to give me your ‘I know what you’re thinking all the time’ look.”

He knew it did, because they were spies after all and knew social clues and what people were thinking and felt just by looks alone, but that didn’t make it any less frustrating.

Did he mention that having Natasha as a friend is both a blessing and a curse, because it totally fucking is.

Thankfully, Pepper came up and hugged them both which spared him the explanations. She appreciated his costume, before having a chat with Natasha about something he didn’t really understand but he vaguely realized that they were talking about shopping and quickly left because he did not want to be in this conversation.

He weaved in and out of people, talking to some. He stopped and talked to Happy and talked about baseball. He was kind of uncomfortable at first, but soon adjusted. Clint had a feeling that Happy has seen worse since his employment with Stark. The archer smiled, clapping his shoulder and telling him to take care of Pepper and took it upon himself to sit on the couch with a stolen bottle of wine that he took when a server wasn’t looking and drinking it from the bottle.

There were people he didn’t know here, crashers probably, but it was annoying because now there were people he didn’t know making out around him and trying to shove their tongues down Tony’s throat.

He shouldn’t be this upset about it. He should let Tony do his own thing because he was a grown fucking man, but then why was he so upset?

God he hated his life sometimes. Actually, scratch that, he hated all the time. When things like this happened his emotions were always crazy. Like Coulson always told him, he was more instinct and guy feelings than his thoughts.

Clint sighed, leaning against the couch and closing his eyes.

He should just no have emotions, because that would be so much better for him than having them.

“You know, you should have just stayed over. It would have been easier than going home and coming back.” Tony’s voice said from above which caused the archer to open his eyes and glance up. “I had some things I needed to care of, that was very urgent at the time.” Clint said quietly, shrugging and moving over as much as he could when Tony sat down next to him.

“I think you haven’t realized that this is the make out couch. It’s weird that only the two of us are here and just talking” Clint muttered, which caused Tony to grin and it was then that he realized just how drunk the mechanic was. Oh fuck this was bad. He’s heard about the sexual adventures of Tony Stark, and most of the time it was rooted in him being more than a little tipsy.

“I don’t know why that’s such a problem, Clint Barton. This is the making out couch, but just because we’re here as friends doesn’t mean we can’t follow the crowd.”

No, this was a horrible idea. He barely had any drinks and was the soberest one of them all and should stop himself before anything stupid happened…

Except that he didn’t and suddenly Tony’s lips were on his and they were soft and warm, and yet tasted like the alcohol he had drank which was a constant reminder how bad of an idea this was.

Even so, he couldn’t pull away. Instead, he took hold of Tony’s head, hands on each of his cheeks, and pulling him closer.

This went on for a few minutes, embarrassingly enough, and the kiss only got deeper before they were pretty much sucking each other’s face as he knew that Natasha would so helpfully mention.

Speaking of the one woman he did not want to find him…

Natasha put her hand on his shoulder and tugged gently. When he did not break away, she pulled him back even more.

Tony frowned, the confusion his eyes even as he looked like he was about to fall asleep. It would do him good, but right now Clint was in over his head and he needed to get out.

Even as he knew that, he didn’t want too.

Natasha took it upon herself to pull Clint up and away from the party, which meant that he was pulled to the elevator and to his floor.

Once they had gotten out, Natasha pushed him out and glared at him. He’d never seen her so angry, and he would have suspected something if he knew that she didn’t like Tony and that she was overprotective of him.

“What the hell were you thinking, Clint!” She yelled and Clint almost cowered backwards. If there was one person that was the worst at being on the receiving end of anger it was Natasha. It always would be Natasha.

So, needless to say, she would want the truth even if the last thing he ever wanted to tell her.

“I don’t know, he was coming onto me and I… Damn it I blanked. I wanted it so badly and I couldn’t stop him when he started coming forward. I couldn’t…” And that’s when he felt it. The crushing sense of disappointment that he could never stop.

“You know what Tony does! He does this to every single woman he has ever brought home. Right now he doesn’t even need to go a long distance! He just goes up the elevator, and god knows that could have been you. And we all know what your emotions do to you. You were already crushing hard on him. This just made it six times worse and we don’t know if he will ever like you back.”

If there was one thing he could appreciate from Natasha, it was how fucking blunt she was even if he never wanted to hear it.

The archer looked at her, before going to sit at his table and put his head down on it. Natasha slowly calmed down, the initial anger that she had been feeling was gone now. Now she had to deal with the aftermath of what was happening.

Clint Barton was anything if not emotional. He always followed his gut and that always got him in trouble.

“I’m so fucking stupid Natasha. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’ve always been careful. Ever since Bobbi I’ve always been careful. That’s why every girlfriend after left me, even if the only one I had after her was Jess.

Natasha knew very well why Clint was always avoiding relationships, because he fell to hard and too fast. In a job such as theirs always left room for trouble.

She never had to deal with such things, having no real attraction to people. At least no one that she has met yet. Clint she knew would never be permanent because she never saw him like that.

So, she did what she could do. The redhead went to his refrigerator and grabbed a beer.

“As much as I hate to say it, I’m telling you to drink your troubles away for right now.” Natasha told him, sitting down next to him as the archer took a drink from the beer.

Soon enough, it was time to leave. He could hear the people in the elevators, and Natasha had to leave to go home and get up early for a mission she needed to go to.

Before she left, she pressed a quick kiss to his forehead. Clint smiled, thanking every God he could think of that they left his sorry ass with Natasha. She was everything good that he needed and would ever need.

He put his head on the table, hearing her leave. He finished the last of the beer in his hand, before he changed into normal clothes that he had at the tower. He doubted that any taxi would be unwilling to take him home if he was wearing only golden spandex underwear.

As he was waiting for the elevator, starting another beer as he waited, which was not at all a good thing because he was already tipsy and if he kept drinking he would get drunk in no time.

Clint frowned, looking at the brown bottle, before taking a large gulp of the drink. It’s been a couple of days, there was no reason he couldn’t get drunk on Halloween night. Everyone did, probably. Tony certainly did, but he had a feeling he was drunk every holiday.

Speaking of the devil.

His day was just getting worse and worse, and even though Tony Stark was standing there with a woman and kissing her like his life depended on it.

The archer watched for a moment, anger and jealousy raging through his mind, before he closed his eyes tightly and stepped back. Thankfully, J.A.R.V.I.S. closed the doors quickly and started to apologize for his mistake. Clint just shook his head, because he knew that the AI didn’t mean it. He just wasn’t expecting it.

“You’re fine, J.A.R.V.I.S. Just, try not to do it again when Tony’s like that.” Clint laughed, but it sounded a little forced. The AI paused, just for a moment longer to tell the archer that he was sorry.

It was strange how Tony made his creations seem so real.

“I have called a cab for you, Agent Barton. It has arrived in front of the tower and is waiting for you.”

Clint smiled, hoping that J.A.R.V.I.S. knew how much he honestly loved him. He decided he was going to take the stairs, because he really didn’t want another run in with Tony and whoever he decided to be with tonight.

Like he thought, the cab driver looked a little apprehensive for him getting in the car with a bottle of beer in his hand. He suspected that the AI already paid the man though, because he didn’t ask if he had anything and didn’t question the alcohol. He just asked where he was going and started driving.

The archer slumped against the back of the seat and took another gulp. His head was buzzing, and he knew that a headache was coming. God, he hated this so fucking much. He didn’t know what to do and all he wanted to do was to drink himself into a stupor and sleep the whole day tomorrow. Thank god he asked off that day.

When he got to his apartment, he pet Lucky who blinked at him and pawed at his hand. She seemed to know that something was wrong, but not what it was exactly. Just Clint’s luck that he would have a kitten that was sensitive to his emotions, since he had so many of them throughout his life.

Clint sighed as he flopped on the coach. The kitten followed him, jumping up to the top of the couch and sitting down on it. She watched her owner though, and if the archer was anymore drunk, he would have said that she was worried about him.

He ignored it, finishing the bottle in his hand and trying to throw it into the trashcan. He missed, and it hit the ground and broke instead. Naturally, that didn’t make his mood any better, but he decided to ignore it for the time being because he really couldn’t deal with this right now.

He closed his eyes, letting himself drift off to sleep, because maybe it would be better tomorrow. Everything always seemed horrible when you’re experiencing it for the first day. Once you sleep on it though it almost always gets better.

At least, he hoped to whatever God out there that it would get better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very off season, I know, but I'll get to Christmas eventually. Maybe a few months from now :P Thank you all who's still reading this and all the comments and kudos. You guys are great, and I'm sorry this took a while to get up <3
> 
> Also, these boys are killing me. They decide they want to flit around each other then just getting together :P


	13. Something to Believe in- Parachute

There were many times that Clint could exactly pin point where he lost control of his life, but it didn’t exactly hit him that it happened again until he had a plate of breakfast in front of him at three in the morning at Denny’s.

The archer groaned, dialing the first number he could think of and waiting for them to pick up, drinking what felt like his tenth cup of coffee. “I’ve decidedly lost control of everything I know and I think I need an intervention.”

Sitwell was wondering if he should take this call seriously or throw the phone out the window and go back to sleep. Though the way Clint has been acting lately might call for totally different actions.

In the end, the handler sighed, reaching for his glasses. “I don’t know if this is a good thing or a horrible thing, but I’m glad you called me.”

Clint snorted into his coffee, though he had no fucking clue how he was going to explain all of his problems to his handler who really didn’t care for his personal life.

“I heard that. Tell me where you are at three in the fucking morning, and I think I’ll be the judge of how out of control your life has become.”

The archer hesitated for a moment, before sighing. “I’m at Denny’s.” A pause over the phone, and the shifting of a body getting out of a bed was heard. “I’m on my way.”

It didn’t take long for Sitwell to get there, and Clint suspected that he had time bending abilities because he was about twenty miles from Manhattan, thanks to bus transportation that were still running for some reason, and he wondered just how sketchy he had looked, but he soon realized he didn’t care.

Clint was on his sixteenth cup of coffee, and was starting on his pancakes when Sitwell came in and sat in front of him. It took him a moment to realize that his handler was wearing normal clothes, and he wasn’t sure if he should be freaked out or not.

He decided to be freaked out, but only a little bit or else Sitwell will roll his eyes at him some more and he didn’t think he could take that tonight. They stared at each other for a long time, long enough for Jasper to order himself coffee and get it and start to drink it while Clint finished his pancakes.

“Okay, there’s a reason that you called me and there’s also a reason I came here. If you tell me why you called me, why you’re here and why your life is currently out of control, and then I’ll tell you why I’m here because I don’t get out of bed and speed here in three in the morning for anyone.” Sitwell murmured, and the archer couldn’t help but smile. He couldn’t really guess why he was here, but he hoped it was because he cared because that was always nice. “I’m pretty sure you actually don’t want to listen to me. It’s so many things that got combined into one.”

The look he got from that told me that he was going to have to spill his guts anyway.

Clint took a sip of his coffee, making a face. It was way too sweet for him, which was saying something for him. There was a small hesitation as he finished the coffee before he launched into everything.

He talked about his family, about the circus. He talked about Loki and how everyone has kind of had a death wish for him, so much so that he was scared for his life when he went on team missions with anyone not Natasha or the Avengers. Clint argued that he was more likely to get shot in the face by his teammate then the enemy, and he finished by talking about Tony. He didn’t even try to hide what he what his feelings about the mechanic were, even though he was almost certain that Sitwell did not want to hear those parts of his problem, but he signed himself up for everything and he would get everything. “Basically, I’m half in love with Tony Stark but I don’t have time to deal with this fucking up and down shit he’s doing, and I don’t want to straight up tell him because it’s one thing for him to say yes, but getting rejected is something I can’t deal with right now, and I’m just dying Sitwell. End my life right now, I know you have your gun, just do it.”

His handler was looking at him with a curious but neutral look, before sighing as he waved the waiter over for the check. “You are coming home with me tonight, and we’re going to figure this all out okay? I came here because I care for you and damn it I’m going to help you through all of this shit you got yourself in. Except for maybe your relationship troubles because I don’t think even Phil signed up for that.” Clint nodded, since that was true and completely understandable. His crappy relationships had a reputation in S.H.I.E.L.D., and it wasn’t a good one.

Clint let Sitwell pay for the check, and hell he accepted the offer for some mini sleep over where it was him basically trying to sort out his shamble of a life with his handler he still wasn’t fully sure he could trust, but he could basically hear his therapist tell him that at least it was a start.

He wasn’t sure if this was a step in the right direction anymore, but anything that made him stop going to Denny’s in the middle of the night was helpful to him. It could be worse, he told himself. He could have gone to Waffle House instead.

No, that wasn’t worse. He shouldn’t kid himself when he pretty much hit rock bottom and hit his head on one of the jagged rocks and had to stay there for a month or so before he felt like picking himself up and trying again.

At least he was trying, that counted for something, right?

He sure fucking hoped so, because this was going to be hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll admit, this was inspired by a tumblr post but I saw it and thought it was perfect for the start of the next chapter that was kicking my butt. Sitwell to the rescue again!! He should have his own TV show, seriously :P  
> Thanks for everyone who's still reading and such. You guys are so great <33


	14. Skinny Love- Bon Iver

Clint never had too great of memories of holidays, but one of the few that he never celebrated when he got out of his dad’s grasp was Thanksgiving. He was a strong guy on family, and when one was as broken as yours was, well it kind of ruined the whole experience for you. They had food, of course they did his dad was a butcher, but it wasn’t the same.

So, he had fully expected to be ordering some takeout and watching the Macy’s Day Parade on the television and then he was going to watch horrible movies that would be on TV because everyone expected people to actually be doing something than watching television.

Except that, halfway during the parade as Clint watched Lucky paw at the television as if she wanted to go pop the balloons, there was a knock at his door. He put down his cereal bowl, picking up the kitten and resting her on his shoulder. She meowed loudly in his ear, making his shoulders shake from laugher. “Hey, for all I know you’re going to scratch the screen beyond recognition. I can’t have that, now can I?”

When he opened the door, he was surprised to find Steve standing on the other side of it.

He was so glad that the only people he had in his apartment complex were elderly and hipsters because they never came out of their apartments, or never came back.

“Steve? What the hell are you doing here?” He ushered the man in, suddenly feeling horrible because Cap didn’t have a place to go during Thanksgiving. Everyone that he knew was dead.

God, he hated holidays sometimes.

The man shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I’m here on Tony’s behalf, really. I was on the way to the tower and you were in my route. We’re all having a Thanksgiving thing and we were all wondering if you would come, seeing as you don’t really live here we weren’t sure if you were going to come.”

Now he didn’t feel so bad, because Steve had been invited to a giant party he hadn’t been invited too.

Clint frowned, situating Lucky so that she was sitting in his arms now. She looked up at the taller man, meowing softly. The archer shushed her, because he was pretty sure that the kitten was about to pounce on the poor man.

“It would have been nice if someone told me.” He said finally, frowning at Steve who looked a little guilty. “I thought Tony had talked to you about it, but today I found out that no one has so I came by.”

The archer wasn’t sure what to do, because he almost wanted to go, but at the same time he was disgruntled about the holiday and wanted nothing more than to stay at home.

So, he decided to change the topic for a moment.

“Do you want to watch the Macy’s Day Parade?” Clint asked, motioning back into his apartment where the TV was still on and where they were now interviewing people for some god awful reason. They didn’t watch it to watch interviews, they wanted to look at the balloons.

Though Clint didn’t understand half of the things that were up there this year, and he had a feeling Steve would understand less.

The said man shook his head, making the archer sigh. “I understand. I’ll think about it and show up if I decide too, but I’m not sure Cap.”

The hero smiled, clapping Clint’s shoulder before leaving. It took a few moments, but soon he heard the roar of the Harley and then it was gone.

Clint sighed going back to the living room but he stood there instead of sitting back down. Lucky, who was still in his arms, crawled to his elbow and jumped onto the couch, before going to the kitchen and eating the food that he had set out for her.

He watched her for a moment, before sighing and flopping on the couch. He was quite content with staying here by himself but at the same time the warm feeling of actually spending time with people on a holiday. Something he hasn’t really experienced in his life, because he really did doubt that his childhood counted. Holidays were all the same, where his brother, mom and him tried their best to keep everything happy while his father broke out the alcohol early in the morning.

Clint frowned at himself, because god damn he was tempted to do the same today. He really did hate being alone on these holidays that people judged you for not spending time with family.

It was hard to spend time with your family when they were either dead or missing.

Except that he had a new family that was offering to spend a holiday with him and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to go see them.

“Lucky, why is life so hard?” He asked the kitten, who was still eating and blissfully ignoring him in favor of her food.

Clint stretched, laying down on his couch and continued to watch TV. It didn’t last long though, because he ended up refilling Lucky’s food and water bowl before he took a taxi to Stark Tower.

It was something he wanted to do, even if it killed him and he suspected that it just might kill him, because this was going to turn into children fighting really quickly.

When he walked in and got into the elevator, he didn’t have to ask where they were because JARVIS obviously knew what he was here for.

They didn’t notice when he walked in, and he didn’t really expect them too. Natasha was sitting off to the side, as antisocial as she could be.

The spy got up, walking so that she was next to Clint and he suddenly realized why everyone always called them attached to the hip. They really never did leave their side. “Did you want to come, or did you come because Tony sent Steve over to use his puppy dog eyes?” She asked, wrapping an arm around his waist.

The archer chuckled, ruffling her hair because he knew that she hated it. “I came here from my own free will, surprisingly enough. You don’t have to mother hen me here either.”

Natasha huffed, pinching Clint’s side. “You need someone to mother you. Tony’s being fake happy today, so he might try and rub it on you. Consider this your warning.”

That made Clint frown, because you would think that Tony Stark would love to do these holiday things, if Halloween was any consideration for anything.

As if Natasha could read his mind, which Clint thought was becoming more and more possible, she started talking again, “I think he’s upset about you two being idiots still from the Halloween party.”

The archer sighed, feeling a little bit like a shithead. However, he also argued that it was Tony’s fault as much as it was his. “Good to know, I guess. Though I hope he’s not just blaming me.” Because wouldn’t that make for one awkward Thanksgiving dinner.

“He’s not, he’s blaming himself.” Like that was much better to him. “Also I heard about what happened with Sitwell the other day. Glad you’re okay, but I ban you from going to Denny’s anymore.”

Clint smiled, knowing that Sitwell had talked with her, which was good. He was glad they were getting along, but at the same time he didn’t want this to be like what they had with Phil. As selfish as it sounded, but he just couldn’t do that right now.

Natasha took this time to walk into the kitchen, leaving Clint wondering just how the hell he was going to do this.

“There better be Clint fucking Barton in that other room, or I’m going to call him and murder him.” A voice floated from the kitchen to the living room. It was then that he noticed just how loud the rest of the team was being in the kitchen, making him wonder just exactly what the hell they were doing.

“Well that better be Tony Stark, or else I got the wrong house.” Clint yelled back a small smile resting on his face as he walked to the kitchen. He noticed Natasha rolling her eyes, before he was suddenly hit by a train of golden hair and muscles and pulled into a bear hug.

“Hello my friend, hello! I am here for the holiday that involves a feast.” Thor yelled into his ear, which made Clint frown and wince. “I have even brought mead from my home! I have found that Midgardian drinks is very weak and man of iron asked me if I would bring some and so I did.”

Oh god, this was going to be horrible. They were all going to get drunk and destroy the world, that’s what was going to happen and everyone was going to be like, “oh why did the Avengers destroy the world” and Clint is going to be the scapegoat and have to tell the world that they destroyed the world because of fucking alcohol from another planet.

“Tony fucking Stark, I am going to kill you.” Clint called back to the kitchen as Thor let him go and wandered back to the area where everyone else was. Tony came out, grinning at the archer as he gave him a one armed hug. “I don’t see why you hate me, all I want is some good Asgardian alcohol. I heard it was awesome and why wouldn’t I want to try it?”

Clint rolled his eyes, but smiled softly at Tony. “Maybe because you drink way too much and God only knows what you’re going to do now that you have the hardest booze I’ve ever seen and heard of.”

Tony shrugged, before putting his hand on the archer’s upper back and pushed him toward the kitchen.

Despite whatever it was happening between them, they weren’t going to let that stop them from having a friendly and fun time at this Thanksgiving party.

It was rather uneventful, actually. Steve and Bruce were the ones doing the cooking and baking, which was good for everyone because they were the best at that. Tony tried to help at one point, but ended up burning the rolls to a crisp which Steve decided to throw out and make proper rolls that weren’t going to be completely black and turn to ash as soon as you touched them.

Tony pouted at that, which made Clint laugh. “Come on Stark, let’s go put on the football game and yell about that instead.” He personally had no one he liked playing anymore, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t be background noise.

When they finally got everything finished for dinner, Clint’s mouth was watering. The turkey looked like something out of a commercial. It looked perfect, and if Steve wasn’t fighting with Tony over who decided to carve it, he would have eaten the whole damn thing by now.

When the small spat was resolved, and it was decided that Tony should do it or else he’d pout for the next month, everything was divided up and they could finally eat.

If Clint had ever had a normal Thanksgiving with people, he could imagine that this is what it was like. People talking about their lives, what they were doing now, and arguing over sports or what they should do for Christmas.

Yes, they were thinking that much ahead which was kind of funny in a way.

The archer smiled, letting his head rest on his hand. This was absolutely perfect. He noticed Natasha smirking at him from the other side of the table and he rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“Clint, what do you think if the Steelers won the Superbowl? Would you be upset?” Tony’s voice said from one end of the table. He turned, the smile not even leaving his lips. “Why are you asking for my opinion? I was rooting for the Vikings.”

Tony made a face, obviously judging him for who he liked, but there was something in his eyes. Something that made Clint smile wider, if that was even possible.

“You’re weird Barton, I’ll give you that.”

For some reason, Clint counted that as a success in his book.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took about forever and a day. I totally apologize about it, and how out of season it is XD But I swear things will be going faster from now. I had bad writers block for this chapter, and I hope it doesn't show as much as I think it does.


	15. Breathe (2 AM)- Anna Nalick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is very heavy mentioning Clint's past abuse, but goes into nothing detailed.

The problem with having an abusive dad is that you start to forget what constitutes as abusive in normal life afterwards.

At least, that’s my problem. Though to be honest, I am never the example you should talk about.

You think you deserve it, that you shouldn’t have done that, and so you sort of lay down and let them take a wallop on you even though you know in your gut that this isn’t what should be happening, but you don’t _care_.

You can’t find it in yourself to fight back, because what’s the point?

You’re just going to get hit harder.

I know, a couple years from now, people are going to ask me why I never fought back from the people that approached me in S.H.I.E.L.D, who really just asked me a question or two and then knocked me out, and I’m going to answer because it never occurred to me that I could stop it. That I never wanted to stop it.

Sitwell, I think he suspects something and I kind of think that Tony mentioned something since he did find me in that position a couple months ago and helped fix up a bloody nose. I just… I don’t know what to do and it’s so fucking aggravating. I know how to defend myself, I know what to do to stop people I just don’t do it.

I guess it doesn’t help that I blame myself for every damned death that happened to our agents that day. It doesn’t help that I did the same thing when I was younger when my dad hit my mom or my brother over something that I did.

I don’t mind the people who want to kill me because of that. That’s why I let them hit me. That’s why I don’t fight, I guess. Because they have every right to be upset at me, and so I let them attack.

I guess you can call me the perfect abused kid that ever walked the face of the earth because I have every single trait that can be accounted to it, or at least that’s what a couple of my old therapists say. It’s kind of hilarious when you think about it, that I follow everything to a tee even when I just want to forget it.

And then there are the few times I just realized I was in an abusive relationship, whether romantic or completely platonic. Most of the romantic abuses were when I was in the circus. I think Natasha and Phil were hyperaware of the people I started dating in SHIELD and some of the more asshole ones, I never did see again. I probably should have realized at the time that abuse isn’t just physical. There are words involved with it too.

I don’t know what’s worse anymore.

I’m just tired. I’m so tired. I don’t know what to do anymore. Going to work is almost hazardous to my health these days, but I can’t stay home either when I’ve been put back on mission work.

I might as well accept my fate, I guess.

It’s not like I can change it anymore. It’s set in motion, and all I have to do is follow it which is pretty nice when you think about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for keeping up with this! And sorry it was short, but Clint does not enjoy talking about these things. But yes, comments and kudos are appreciated <3


	16. Give Your Heart a Break- Demi Lovato

“A little dead birdie told me that you have a cat at your apartment.” Tony told him as soon as he answered his phone, which cause Clint to rub his forehead. This was apparently his life and he had no fucking clue what to do with it. He just knew that he was going to kill Steve.

He had just woken up, from the phone call no less, and was playing with the chord that connected the phone to his wall.

Yes, he still had one of those phones, but it stretched really far so it didn’t really matter did it?

“God damn it Stark, you woke me up just to tell me that you’re stalking me? I’m going back to bed.” He finally decided, and when the mechanic started to chastise him about sleeping until noon, he really did hang up.

Clint picked up Lucky, putting her on his shoulder. “I swear to God, you two are one in the same.” He muttered as he went about his daily routine before putting her back down because he had to leave for work. It was a normal day, a slow one, and for some reason or another whenever Tony was mentioned, Clint couldn’t help but look up.

Was this really his life now? That he had to see what people were saying because he wanted to know what they thought of him.

The archer took the time to call Pepper and ask her for her advice. The thing about Pepper Potts was that she was actually the best woman in the universe to ask about advice on anything related to Tony Stark.

“Why do you still have a phone with a chord?” Was the first thing that Pepper asked him when she picked up, sounding way to perky for him. Though, knowing her, she has probably been up for a few hours.

“What are both of you stalking me now?” He muttered, moving around his kitchen, puttering about and trying to figure out what he was going to have for lunch.

Pepper laughed, and it was incredibly soothing that he had no idea how to explain it. “No, I just have caller ID, and know that it’s your apartment phone and your apartment is still living in the 90s, if you don’t mind me saying.”

Clint listened absently, taking down a box of somewhat stale Cheerios and taking out his milk. “What if I did mind? I don’t see what’s so wrong about the 90s.”

They chatted for a few moments, Pepper being surprisingly polite even though Clint was nosily eating while talking on the phone with her. She must be used to it because from what he understood, Tony didn’t have the best table manners either.

“So I was actually calling to see if you knew some things.” Wow, nice job. Be vaguer and never get your questions answered, even if they were the most awkward questions imaginable. “Is this about Tony? Because he’s been talking about you for months almost exclusively if that’s what you want to hear.”

It wasn’t what first came to mind, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to hear it. It actually made him feel pretty nice.

“Well, it wasn’t that question really, but I think you might have answered it anyway. Should I ask Tony out?” Clint realized very belatedly that asking Tony’s ex-girlfriend about these things might be tactless, but they were still friends and Pepper liked him. At least he thought that she did.

If she didn’t, he would know soon enough, but Pepper just laughed which made him relax. “If you’re asking for my permission, Barton, you know I don’t care. If I think you should do it just to do it? Yes, only because he’s going to do it himself in three years. I know he likes you, but he’s always slow to act on things. Believe me.”

Clint did, and they chatted mindlessly after that before Clint hung up. Lucky had been nibbling on his shirt for a while now, jumping to the counter when he was finished talking. She looked up at him innocently and the archer sighed. “Fine, you get to meet Tony.” He smiled as he said it though as he took up the kitten in his hand and started for Stark Towers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all who are still reading this. You are all fabulous <3 Kudos and comments are love c:


	17. Fire [Aim Your Arrows High]- VerseEmerge

Clint was going to kill someone. Preferably these stupid animal like aliens that had dropped from some weird spaceship to run around and try and kill people or something.

He had went to the tower, ready to talk to Tony when Steve insisted on doing team bonding. He said that they should go to a movie that was coming out that all of them did kind of want to see, but couldn’t that be later?

Obviously not.

The fact of the matter was they ambushed them when they were trying to get to that movie. Fortunately, Natasha, Steve and he were paranoid to keep their weapons on hand all the time, the Hulk was always there, and Thor could summon his weapon.

Tony could, but he was still repairing it from the last bad guy fighting so the only thing that came were his two hand repulsors.

The archer would be lying if he said that he wasn’t worried about how open he was, but he also knew he could take care of himself.

That didn’t mean that he didn’t stick close to him though.

It was normal, Steve giving orders through their headsets that they all carried on them no matter what, Clint noting how funny it was to see everyone fighting with their street clothes when _it_ happened.

Natasha got knocked down from an alien coming behind her, dropping one of her handguns that was taken by another alien.

It then turned to Tony who had been shooting at it to get away from Tasha.

Clint tried to give a shout out to him, but it was too late.

Tony let out a yelp as he was shot, his hand moving to his stomach and Clint knew it was bad. Natasha gained her bearing and fought back.

“Clean shot.” He grunted and with that Clint felt his nerves turn to ice.

Clint was stunned, trying to ignore the overwhelming feeling of going to Tony. He couldn’t go to Tony now, it was dangerous to be on the ground at this time for him.

“Clint!” Natasha’s voice rang clear in his comm, “You know what to do!”

It took him a moment in his panic to figure out what she was saying. He pulled out his arrow that had what could only be described as a plastic plug. (Yes, he had heard what other people had called it. He would have done away with it if it wasn’t so god damn useful) and aimed at Tony.

The mechanic was trying to keep fighting, but it was clear he was weak. He needed medics _now_. “Tony, hold still and move your body toward me.” He could see him glance up and could only imagine what he was thinking when he saw Clint aiming at him.

He moved away and the archer cursed. “Trust me! Stand still.” He growled, which made the man still.

There was a moment before he took the shot.

There was another yelp of pain, this time louder than the time he got shot by the alien, which told Clint that he had hit his mark.

“You shot me!” Tony yelped, moving backwards so that he was leaning against a wall. Clint took this opportunity to shoot off the aliens that were advancing on him. “I was trying to save your life, which I’m pretty sure I just did thank you.”

Clint could hear the eye roll from where he was “By shooting me again?” He whined.

“Well, it stopped the bleeding didn’t it?” Clint pointed out, noticing that by some good luck that the things were starting to become less and less.

“You are not shooting me like that again, no matter how awesome it was” Tony mumbled which made Clint smirk. He relaxed a little more when he saw Steve head towards him so he knew that he would be fine.

It wasn’t the best day, he got just about nothing done, Tony was injured (and put on bed rest which made him whine for way too long), and when he came home Lucky had eaten his breakfast.

The archer fell into bed and immediately fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Walks in a year late with hot chocolate since coffee is bleh*  
> I am so sorry this took me forever to write. I had a really bad writer's block, but I'm determined to finish this so I started it up again for NaNo  
> I sincerely apologize again. I hope you enjoy some action, as requested by from one of my friends  
> (Also I actually wrote most of this part for a fill on a certain LiveJournal dedicated to Marvel fanfiction. I adapted it to work in the context of this :P)


	18. Awake O Sleeper- The Brothers Bright

I love being an Avenger. I love saving people, I love feeling like I’m good.

I don’t feel like that often, what with SHIELD and the whole killing people thing. With the Avengers it feels like I’m giving back those lives I take.

I hate the Avengers because it sets me in false idea that I’m actually good.

I haven’t been that in years, probably not even since I was in the circus.

It’s so damn suffocating. Trying to pretend to be a good person when you’re so far from it it’s almost laughable.

The public doesn’t know what I do, hell half of the Avengers don’t know what I do.

So then why am I here?

Natasha and I were one of the first to be considered for Fury’s idea of having a group that saved people. We were the best, sure, but there had to be another reason.

We were _saving_ people in a completely different way and it was refreshing.

But Natasha deserved that, not me. Not after what I did.

Everyone seems to think that I was somehow free of all of that death, that guilt, because I was slightly under the control of Loki.

I don't buy it, I can't buy it because it doesn't feel right..

I’m here because Nick Fury thought I would do good work here even after everything I’ve done.

Because Nick Fury knows me more than I think he does.

And maybe that’s why I hate him so damn much. I hate these games he plays with me. Coulson used to do the same damn thing and I hated him for it.

And yet I’m still here, still doing the same thing I’ve always done like I’m some kind of robot. Like a puppet that’s being pulled by strings.

But whoever said that the puppets don’t like the strings? Don’t like the company and knowledge that someone is pulling them or that there’s other puppets like me.

One thing is for sure, I’m not showing this entry to Sitwell. The last thing I need is another Psych evaluation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! You're wonderful <33


	19. Young Volcanoes- Fall Out Boy

Clint sighed, putting his head down on the table that he had in this giant apartment that was far too big for one person and his cat. He didn’t know how Tony did it. He knew he loved his suits but it was still a point that you realized that you can’t just not talk to people. If he was going to have an apartment this big, he wanted the whole damn Avengers in it.

So, he decided to see Natasha because his skin was crawling to the point that he couldn’t even think from this silence.

When he went up to her room, flopping on her couch. Not long after he did this, she walked out of her room fully dressed and not looking at all tired.

He really didn’t know what to do with her sometimes. She was literally perfect all the time. He didn’t think he ever saw her at a time where she didn’t look actually perfect.

“I hate you.” Clint stated, watching her with a frown.

Natasha smirked, sitting down next to him. “I know, but you shouldn’t because I pay for your food.”

True, most of the time. He was never good with money, but he has gotten significantly better.

They sat in silence, save for the television that was running behind them. Some kind of daytime show that neither of them cared about.

“What’s wrong?” She said after a moment, giving him a look that meant that she knew something was upsetting him and she may or may not have an idea as to what it was.

It was a look he got often from her, for good reason probably.

The archer shook his head, bringing his legs to his chest so that he could put his arms there. “Why us? Why were we the first ones picked for the Avengers?” He said after a long moment.

“Because we were the best.” Natasha told him, automatically. It was the answer that Fury gave them when they first asked and it was one that she stuck by. She trusted Nick with her life and then some, Clint did too but he thought that he trusted Coulson more. Now that he was gone, he was still trying to figure it out.

From his silence, Natasha guessed that it wasn’t a good answer for him. “Because Fury needed people that were familiar to him and SHIELD so that we could be doing SHIELD’s work and the Avenger’s work.”

For some reason, that made him feel better. At the same time it made him feel worse. It felt like he was somehow betraying the others. Betraying Steve.

But he could see where she was coming from.

“I know it isn’t as glamorous as you want it to be, but sometimes things are just simple. Fury wanted us here because he knew us and he trusted us.” Natasha said as she ran a hand through his hair.

Clint nodded, leaning against her.

He ended up falling back asleep as Natasha watched mindless television.

He might have slept the whole damn day if Tony hadn’t started shaking him awake. “What?” Clint whined, trying to swat at him.

It took him a moment that he was still on Natasha’s couch, she was gone and Tony was standing over him. “Why are you here?” He asked, sitting up.

Tony shrugged, pulling at his arm. “Come on, we need to go to your floor and pet your kitten.”

“You can do it without me.” The archer pointed out as he stood up, Tony grinning as he pulled him to the elevator. “Yeah, but it’s more fun with company. Besides, I need to talk to you.”

Well if that didn’t sound ominous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short, I know, but the next one is some fun stuff and kind of long so~  
> Thank you for reading! And I hope you enjoy <3


	20. Falling In- Lifehouse

Clint should have known that Tony Stark was a cat person. He didn’t know why the fact didn’t jump at him before, honestly.

Maybe it was because he always assumed Tony to be a dog person. He had the personality of a dog, anyway.

 “Who’s a good little kitten, you are!” Tony said to Lucky who just swatted his face as if she was annoyed. To be fair, who wouldn’t be annoyed at someone who was using that baby voice on them?

Lucky was an independent cat who needed no man. She just tolerated Clint, though he would like it if she tolerated Tony.

The kitten swished her tail in Tony’s face before jumping down from the counter and rubbing Clint’s leg with her body. She was so small that she could effectively hide beside Clint’s leg.

This made the mechanic pout and Clint snickered a little. “Sorry, I guess my kitten doesn’t like you as much as you want her to like you.”

Tony flopped in the chair next to him, playing with the plastic cup he had on the table. “That’s not fair, all animals like me. I’m a very likeable person with animals. I even have some hair on my face so that they can relate to me. The same can’t be said for you.”

The archer had to refrain from saying that Tony’s goatee was kind of adorable if not devilishly handsome at the same time. Instead, he leaned down to pet Lucky. “Sorry, I guess she just sees you and sees a giant tool.”

He grinned as Tony threw the empty cup at him, hitting him in the arm.

Eventually he bonded with Lucky like peanut butter and jelly. He theorized that Lucky was weary at first, because everything was much bigger than his apartment at Stark’s tower. She was pretty tiny, so maybe that influenced it a little bit.

“You said you wanted to talk to me?” Clint asked from his table as he watched Tony play with the kitten. It had been two weeks, actually have forgotten that Tony wanted to talk to him that first day because he was caught up in trying to tame the mechanic around his kitten.

Tony was working on one of his suits now and Clint was watching him. He had a habit of doing that lately.

It was kind of interesting, watching Tony play with his suits. He has built things from the ground up himself, but never something like this. It’s always been arrowheads or, at one time, a pair of hearing aids.

Clint was so lost in thought that he didn’t even realize that Tony was trying to get his attention.

“I was wondering if you wanted to, um, go to dinner with me.” Tony asked, messing with the piece of robotics he had been playing with for the past hour, not looking at him.

“Like, to that really fancy dinner that Pep wants you to go to with investors to Stark tech?” Clint asked, almost casually, trying not to show that he might know too much about Tony’s life. He looked a little startled that the archer even knew about it which made Clint chuckle.

Tony shrugged, finally looking up at him. “I have to bring someone and I want to bring you.”

That made Clint raise an eyebrow, ignoring the giddy feeling he had from that thought. “What you’re saying is that you want to bring me to an extremely boring meeting in a fancy restaurant, which I hardly have the clothes for, just so you can take me on a date?”

Tony smiled, in a smug self-satisfied way which just made Clint roll his eyes.

“Yes, I’ll go with you.”

The mechanic grinned, still playing with the piece in his hand, but looked happier than Clint would have expected him to look.

Clint was slightly worried that this was all a ploy to get to sleep with him, but he refrained from asking. He didn’t want to make himself look like any more of an idiot then he already was.

Tony was already back to working on his suit.

The archer watched him for a little bit more before leaving. He needed to sort what the hell he was going to do for this dinner. It wasn’t a date, he had to remind himself. Tony needed someone to bring and he decided to bring him.

It was casual, a dinner for some of his investors. He wouldn’t be asked questions.

At least that’s what he kept telling himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading!! You're all so wonderful <3 Thank you for the kudos and the comments c:


	21. Falling Slowly- Glen Hansard, Marketa Irglova

I didn’t expect to get this attached to him. Probably my life story, but we had only known each other since the Avengers got together. He mentioned something, god I don’t even remember what it was, but it peaked my interest and I cracked a joke.

He made a quip that I was the only one that got his humor and then we actually got to talking. We got together like two peas in a pod, similar backgrounds probably didn’t help very much.

The only difference was that he was rich growing up and I was dead poor.

We had a prank war within a week of knowing each other, one that ended up with the tower pained pink and my outfit turning into grown up baby clothing.

Natasha was the one that ended it, and also the one that told me to be careful with what he was doing.

Probably should have listened to her, now that I think about it.

The thing with me and crushes, if you didn’t already find out, is that I get them too easily and get hurt by them all the time. Literally all the time.

Meet someone that saved me? Oh man, I need to love them for all eternity and follow them like a duck that just imprinted on their mom. Meet someone that’s really nice to me? Well god damn I’m just going to talk to you as much as I can without it being creepy.

I’ve gotten better at managing it, but damn it’s annoying.

And then why did I come to Tony?

Well, he was funny and I could relate to him. I sometimes think about telling him to try and stop drinking but I think that might be going a bit too far.

I guess, in the end, I don’t know why I decided to have a crush on Tony.

Because he was handsome. Because he invited me in without being worried that I might kill him from some weird residual effects of Loki’s scepter (I was getting enough of that at S.H.I.E.L.D., thank you very much).

And when he has figured something out he has that gleam to his eye that makes you just want to give him everything in the world to figure out if he’s going to be that happy.

God I can’t believe that I just wrote that.

It’s like some Life Time drama or something.

Though I am kind of hoping for no random deaths for no reason.

I mean really, have you watched those?

I think I might burn these papers. Last thing that anyone wants to hear is me gushing about Tony Stark. He gets that enough from the paparazzi. Most people worship the ground he walks on.

Besides, this is probably the last thing that Sitwell wants to read and it’d be better for HIS SANITY IF HE DIDN’T READ THIS.

There, that’ll get his attention.

And probably make him want to read it even more but then that would be his fault.

I’m not paying for his psychiatrist bills either, which is probably in my favor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp  
> I swear I'm trying to be more active with this, but it always seems like school and other things get in my way.  
> I'm so sorry guys I'll try harder <3  
> I hope you enjoy the chapter and I promise there will be more to come!


	22. Let Love In- Goo Goo Dolls

Tony made sure that Clint had a suit to wear to this meeting, mostly because he honestly didn’t have one to wear. He insisted that he keep it because he probably would need it for something else, which was true.

He just didn’t want to use it on a mission and ruin it. If he was put back on missions. That was still up in the air at the moment. Despite what Sitwell says, he’s sure that he won’t get an assignment in a while.

Clint shook all their hands, smiling at each of them and sitting next to Tony.

Some of the other men brought their wives, others didn’t have any. The wives seemed to know each other so they were happily conversing with themselves. He had no idea what women of their status talked about. He tried to listen to them, but he decided it was best to just listen in on the business side of things.

He didn’t quite understand what Tony and the other men were talking about, so he absently read the menu. It was in French, of course. Tony couldn’t go anywhere without having some kind of different language serving him because it probably made him feel important.

The archer was staring intently at it trying to figure out what it said since he only knew enough French to get him by and it wasn’t really in the food aspect. That was when someone that one of the older men turned to him and try and make decent conversation.

“Is it alright if I call you Clint?” He asked and the archer nodded. He smiled at him, putting the menu down. “I’m sorry you had to come to this. I know that these things are fairly sleep inducing. My wife complains about it all the time.”

Clint chuckled, folding his hands on the table. “I mean, I can’t say I was dragged here. I’m basically getting what I bargained for.”

They chatted for a few minutes, really about nothing, but it was nice to talk to someone. A waiter came and went to get their drinks and their food. Tony ordered wine for everyone, not that it really surprised him.

What surprised him was what the man, he came to know as Mr. Motes, asked him once the waiter left and everyone was engulfed in their conversations again. “Now, I’m not asking this to judge you, but are you Mr. Stark’s partner?”

Clint frowned, not sure what he meant. Partner was such a vague word that could literally mean anything. “What do you mean?” He asked bluntly, wondering if he should feel as stupid as he was feeling right now.

“I mean are you too, oh what’s the new term for it, dating? Boyfriends?” Motes continued, waving his hand around as if that would help Clint realize what he was saying.

The archer laughed nervously, quickly shaking his head. “Oh, no. I’m just a friend. You know Tony, he doesn’t want to go alone to these kinds of things.” Did he know that? He hoped he did because that’s what he was going with.

The investor just chuckled. It was that annoying elderly chuckle that said that they knew more than him that annoyed the hell out of him.

Tony took this time to look at him, grinning.

Clint couldn’t help but grin back and Motes whispered something to who was presumably his wife. This made his smile diminish a little and Tony noticed. Of course he did. His eyes were asking if he was alright. “I’m heading to the restroom.” He said quietly, getting up.

Not long after he went in, Tony opened the door.

Of course he followed him, he had looked worried. You can’t seem to stop a worried Tony.

“You okay? What did Motes say to you? He’s kind of a weird guy but he has a lot of money.” Clint waved Tony away, washing his hands for something to do. “I’m fine. I just needed to step away. I can only look at the faces of old men for so long.”

Tony rolled his eyes, looking at him in the mirror. “You know, you can’t always hide behind jokes. You’re going to have to actually tell people what’s wrong.”

For some reason, that stung. It was probably supposed to be friendly, but it rubbed Clint the wrong way. “Yeah, just like you tell everyone what’s wrong? Mr. I’m-Sarcastic-All-The-Time.”

He knew when he said it that he should have kept his mouth shut. There was a flash of hurt on Tony’s face before it went back to neutral. He stepped away from the archer. “It takes experience to know that you shouldn’t be doing it.”

Clint stayed in the bathroom while Tony left to go back to the investors.

Dinner went more or less how it should have been. Clint stayed silent, only taking to Mr. Motes or Tony in short sentences. Eventually they stopped trying.

Tony drove him home and the silence was almost suffocating. Clint wondered if he should say something, but he couldn’t bring himself to try. He was never good at fixing situations. He just made them happen or made them worse.

They parted at Clint’s floor. The mechanic nodded at him as he loosened his tie. Clint didn’t respond the gesture, instead turning his back as the elevators closed.

Lucky tilted her head, looking at him curiously. As he slowly undressed from the suit, laying it on a nearby chair so that it wouldn’t crease. When he flopped on his bed, the kitten jumped into it and sat on his stomach.

The archer took a moment to pet her gently before he fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like the new chapter!  
> Thank you for reading <3


	23. Santa Fe- Newsies Original Broadway Cast

When I was a kid I hated Iowa. I wanted nothing more than to leave. It was all the same, fields of corn and cities that felt like they were suffocating you with how small they were.

And when my parents died and I went to the orphanage, I couldn’t even leave past the fence. All I could do was look out and see the cars pass or the people come in and out. You forget the loneliness, just focusing on being taken home, but when that doesn't happen it comes back full force.

Maybe that’s the real reason Barney and I ran to the circus, to get out. To do something that wasn’t being stuck somewhere. Somehow, we believed that being in the circus would be freeing. That's the childhood dream, after all. Escape to the circus and you live the rest of your life in freedom and some kind of luxury where you don't get rules. That we could escape our problems and we would never have to deal with that feeling of being trapped.

In all of my years at that circus I never left the confines of it until I was old enough to go home with women. I would actually see the city I was in then, but it was just as small as ever. Those towns we stopped in were just like all the memories I had.

I never wished to be in a big city, but I wanted to be somewhere that wasn’t familiar. The Midwest and South were just the same places with different accents.

I wanted to get lost in something.

When SHIELD took me in and told me that I would be reporting to them in Washington D.C. I was apprehensive.

Once I got there I was in love.

The noise was the best part, the sounds of people talking and of traffic is something you could get lost in.

I used to take walks around the city at night, wander around because I had no idea where I was and it was _wonderful_.

People tried to mug me, sure, but I was on the other side of that once. I could scare them off well enough.

Cities aren’t really ideal for spies and assassins and I have bought some land in the Midwest in case something ever happens. A little farm house that was reminiscent of my home in Iowa. A place to lie low if something went to hell quicker then I could process what happened. I got it after Budapest, actually. Just in case another time like that came around. A sort of safe house, I guess, because one can never have too many safe houses.

I’m not quite sure what I’m writing about here. The pent up agitation, maybe, but it was never as bad as when I was a kid. I've been a little wound up from not doing anything and thinking about these moments might help.

The lights are beautiful at night. The city that never sleeps. You never think about how accurate that is until you actually get here.

Somehow a boy from Iowa managed to go from the rock bottom to the top of New York and isn’t that a dream for the ages.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the read! Sorry it was short. I'll try and have longer chapters up soon <3


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